Why race?

On my long run this weekend I reflected on Robert's journal entry that his racing season had concluded, wondering why my own was still in such full bloom. Those of you who know me know that I'm not exactly a competitive person, so what is it about racing events that makes me even want to consider doing one?

In my view of things, race is the wrong word to use. I think of them as organized running events. Therein lies at least part of the answer to my question:

1. Running events are fun.
As much as I hate traffic jams and long lines at King Soopers, I have to admit there is such thing as a fun crowd. Running events, with their swarms of intense but friendly participants, are fun. I find runners in groups to be nearly always generous, patient, kind to one another, supportive--and brimming to overflowing with energy and positive attitude. Even in the jostle at the starting lineup, runners are a cheery group of people, and I have yet to witness or experience any of the soap-opera quality that can insinuate itself into so many other human endeavors. The only drama on the stage is the run, and it's pure and sweet.

Plus lots of runners are pretty people. Who doesn't like to be around positive, pretty, healthy people?

2. Running events give my training a focus.
Without a goal for a specific upcoming event, my running tends toward duty rather than joy. While I like to think of myself as a person who values process over outcome, I have to admit that in running I have an easier time organizing what I'm going to do when I've incorporated a timetable with a fixed deadline.

At the moment I know that I want to do the Boulder Backroads Half-Marathon. That means I'd better have my body conditioned for two-plus hours on my legs, and if I want to keep it closer to two hours than three hours I'd better work on my speed as well. That much additional stress on my system imposes a need for better attention to my nutrition, my hydration and my sleep needs, and upper body conditioning becomes more of an issue.

As a runner I know how important all of these things are, but I'm just undisciplined enough to know that without the clock ticking toward a certain meeting with fate on September 25, I'd be recognizing all of these principles in the abstract and doing very little in the concrete.

3. Running events give me a snapshot of my level of fitness.
Using the heart rate monitor as my pacing device assures that I pretty much expend the same effort from one event to the next. Any differences in race times are therefore a fair indication of the results of my conditioning and training efforts, and watching them improve over time has given me a great sense of accomplishment.

Much to my surprise, my weight has changed very little over the three year-period I've been running. But my time has gone from 11:40 to 8:11 at the Pearl Street Mile. That brings a smile to my face.

Perhaps one day I'll be enough in the main group of runners to have some of my competitive juices stirred. With my overall goals still at the level of wanting to finish in the top half of the field--that's a pretty modest hope--I'm nowhere near thinking of myself as a competitive runner. But that doesn't stop me from giving it my best, pushing myself at the end of each race to close strong at 95% of my max HR.

And it doesn't hurt my feelings at all to hearing the crowds cheering as I cross the finish line.