I am three days out from my next Spartan Race. I am experiencing the requisite freakout, lamenting any and all missed training sessions and transgressions of nutrition.
It’s typical among any racer of any sort. I get the same way before marathons and half-marathons. I combat it with my mantra: Trust In The Training. Because the training is the hard part: the workouts, the nutritional fueling, the early rising/late nights. Races are the dessert, full of fun and glory during and much bragging after.
There will still be bragging after. There’s no validity to any falsely modest statements here, am I right? There will be fun and glory during as I love the mud, the physicality, and the one-on-one time with Hubby with nary a diaper to change (unless he’s been hiding something from me). So why bother with the anxiety? Because it’s what I do.
I have seen my share of two- and three-day training breaks the last two months. Dietary missteps have been even more frequent. Now, I stopped monitoring my food intake for aesthetic reasons long ago; I focus instead on the way I feel when I down toxic meals and – for lack of a better word – “treats.” I tend to the cautious side because I understand what a dynamic role my nutrition plays in connection with EBV. Does it mean my intake has reached that glorious state of perfection? Hell to the no. But I try.
Anyway, even more than missed training and consumption of completely wasteful foodstuffs, I continue to agonize over the bone-crushing fatigue that has been creeping up on a daily basis. I simply haven’t been able to pull completely out of the flare up, despite relaxing my training schedule. Yesterday was the worst: I crashed into a drooling slumber of an entirely non-beautifying sort at 7:30ish. I say “ish” because I have a hazy recollection of texting Hubby upon the groggy realization that our daughter was awaiting parental pickup from her playdate. My phone tells me that happened at 7:26 and that he responded right away. I was asleep before I read that response.
And I could simply say, “So-the-fuck-what? I feel amazing today!” Which is true; I do. My freaking arises from the worry that the fatigue will settle before I have a chance to cross the finish line. It was my sincere desire to slaughter this race in a way we could not do last year due to Hubby’s breaking his ankle in the first mile. (He still finished. Four miles plus obstacles. Aroo, Hubby. A-freakin’-roo!) Again, it is all in my head. I need to flush the fear, the anxiety, the freak down the proverbial toilet.
And drink some Energy & Endurance Formula before our heat. Did I mention we’re in the 12:30 heat? Literally – the 12:30 HEAT. That actually has no bearing on my pre-race jitters. Just thought I’d mention it. I am an all-week hydrater before races. So I drink all the water and pee ALL THE TIME.
I seem to have lost track of my original point. Can I blame that on EBV too?
What it comes down to is this: I am deciding right now, right this very second, to release the worry. I will do whatever training suits me in this last week vs. attempting to squeeze every last drop of sweat and strength into four days to compensate for any missed time. Because really, that would just ensure my dropping like a deuce mid-race. I vow to enjoy my date with Hubby, my muddy fun with friends, and the celebratory beers post-race.
Because Spartans do not quit; they persevere.