Last week, I ran to the park with my family. As is our custom, my husband pushed the double stroller. I played traffic control for the small child on the bicycle, running alongside of her.
Sabrina Little running to the park with her family. All photos courtesy of Sabrina Little.
It was a busy day of research and meetings, so I did not have enough time for a run of my own. After we arrived at the park, we unloaded the kids from the stroller. I handed off the baby to my husband and took off running. I did hill sprints behind the park for 15 minutes. Then I returned to the park and assumed my duty at the bottom of the slide. My responsibility is to snatch the stuffed animals that my kids release down the slide before they hit the woodchips. It is an important job, and I am honored to do it.
As we departed, another woman holding a baby tapped me on the shoulder. “I don’t know what that was,” she commented, referring to my baby-handoff hill sprints. “But good job.”
Moms Who Run
New motherhood is an odd space. I am on my third kid, yet I am barely articulate concerning the ways it has changed me. I still run daily and like to go fast. But training is subordinated to care responsibilities, and all of my ambitions are happily constrained by the people I love.
For the better part of the past year, friends have asked about my racing goals. This question has been barely comprehensible to me. I am psychologically and logistically tethered to my children. It takes a high degree of executive function to manage little people and make so many decisions on a regular basis, and I have a job that also requires a lot of thinking. Racing has been the least of my concerns. It is the only ball I can drop without impacting others.
Sabrina doing stretches with her eldest daughter, Lucy.
However, my youngest kid recently turned one. Now our days have a semblance of routine, and I am piecing together longer stretches of normal (or normal-adjacent) sleep. Suddenly, the itch to race has returned. I don’t really care what distance I compete in, and I do not think racing will go particularly well. I think I just need to race. Here is why.
My Training Makes No Sense
My Strava (1) profile currently bears a “Professional Athlete” badge — a relic of former times. I hope that no one sees that and emulates my “training” because, insofar as training is teleological or ordered to an end (improved fitness), my running is not training. I tend to run in the gray area — kind of fast but not actually fast — every single day. This will not improve your fitness. It will generate a modicum of physical ability, and then you will remain there indefinitely. At least, that is what it has done for me.
Having a racing goal makes training coherent because it builds toward some end. Goals also have a winnowing effect on activities. They either support or do not support the goal. So, you eliminate junk mileage and efforts that might be flashy but do not refine you in goal-relevant ways.
I would benefit from a winnowing effect. If I am going to spend time running, I might as well make it productive.
Racing Keeps Us Honest
The first 400 meters of most races, I think, “This hurts. Maybe I can hide in a bush, then flee the scene. No one will notice.”
Racing is hard, but it is important because it gives us honest feedback about our capabilities. When we race, we learn where our limits are located in precise terms. This recognition can shift expectations and inform the sorts of training we attempt.
There are many benefits to racing that go far beyond a final placing or performance.
Sometimes the feedback we receive is disappointing. I once raced a half-marathon as a fitness check, only to learn that my new training system had torpedoed my high-end speed. But this was valuable feedback, and I made changes. Racing lets me know what I am capable of. Otherwise, I make rough estimations and spin my wheels.
I Miss My People
In the past few years, I have only raced a handful of times. I miss running fast and traveling around the world. I miss waking up before sunrise to compete with a headlamp and a heavy racing pack full of gear. I miss drinking pickle juice in the forest and finding twigs in my hair. But most of all, I miss my people.
The trope of the lonely long-distance runner is wrong; community is the best part about running. Withdrawing from racing has meant being removed from my friends, and this is the biggest reason why I would like to race again.
Sabrina (third from right, middle row) with the Virginia Happy Trails Running Club before a summer run.
Final Thoughts
To be clear, I do not imagine my racing will be particularly good or that I will be able to compete frequently. I have limited time to train, and I am more drawn to time with my family and my research than to extended long runs — the kind of workout most beneficial to an ultrarunner. But I can return to racing within my current constraints and do my best in this weird phase of life. I am super excited to race again.
Notes/References
- Strava is a social media endurance training platform where athletes share their runs, bike rides, and other activities.
