Healthy living: Bittersweet victory

On Saturday, March 26, I ran a 35-kilometer trail race in Woodside. Even though I was the first woman to cross the finish line, you will not see my name in the results.
The morning of the race, I lay in bed listening to the rain pound my roof and waiting for my alarm to go off. As I brewed a hot cup of coffee, my husband asked me if I thought they might cancel the race due to extreme weather conditions. With a knowing smile, I answered, “No way. Trail runners thrive on this stuff. The tougher, the better.”
I could see he accepted the information but didn’t fully understand it.
On the way to the race, my friend and fellow racer, Erin, told me about a recent study, which proved that runners perceive “hitting the wall” long before they actually show any physical signs of fatigue. It never ceases to amaze me how a little snippet of information like this always seems to find me right before I race.
With numbers affixed and fingers poised to our stopwatches, we stood out in the downpour, impatiently listening to final pre-race announcements. A man with a scratchy megaphone reminded runners which color ribbons to follow depending on the distance they’d signed up for (10k, 17k, 35k or 50k), then counted down from 10 to “Go!” and the race began.
After a quick single-track descent, we started the relentless 5-mile climb to Skyline Boulevard. The next 10 miles of the race were out-and-back with rolling hills. About half a mile from the turnaround, I crossed paths with the woman who was leading the race and realized that I was holding second place. With 10 miles to go, no real threats behind me and my legs feeling strong, anything was possible.
The next 5 miles were the toughest part of the race, as we retraced our footsteps up and over the rollers, completing the 3,000 total feet of elevation gain. Every time I felt myself lose speed on an uphill, I reminded myself that fatigue hits your brain before your body. Each time my brain said, “You’re tired, slow down,” I simply said, “You’re wrong,” and to my surprise, my body effortlessly accelerated up the hill.
The final 5 miles were all downhill. With abundant energy, smooth form, quick feet and confidence, I flew down the mountain. Midway down, I came to an intersection where I had to decide whether to continue on the single track or turn left onto a fire road. Ribbons went in both directions, but I couldn’t remember which color I was supposed to follow. I made a quick decision and stayed on the single track. Though I wasn’t able to catch up to the woman in first, I was still thrilled to cross the finish line in second place.
The bad news came when the race organizers told me I’d arrived first and I realized that the woman I had been chasing was still on the course. In that moment, I knew that I must have followed the wrong color ribbons at the intersection, cutting the course short by about half a mile. I trudged over to the timing tent and awarded myself a rightful, but nevertheless disappointing, DQ. The official first-place finisher came in about 6 minutes later and claimed her medal, while I stood aside, knowing my name wouldn’t even appear in the results.
In chatting with other racers, I learned that I wasn’t the only one who made this mistake, and to my delight, they were laughing about it. The fact was, I had a great race with a finish time that exceeded my expectations — not to mention that my disqualification bumped my friend Erin up to third place. So as far as I’m concerned, the race was a total success, and I learned two valuable lessons: First, study the course map in advance of the race. And second, the results are secondary to the overall experience. I look forward to applying this newly found wisdom to my next race.
Julia Blanton is a nutrition, fitness and wellness coach. An avid runner, she works at Club One in Scotts Valley and keeps a health blog at www.juliablanton.com.