On the Other Side of the Barricade

18 weeks ago I was selected as an RRCA and MDRA grant recipient to support the build up to the Olympic Marathon Trials.

16 weeks ago my principal, coworkers, and students supported my decision to go south for safe training.

9 weeks ago Tyler and I packed up and moved temporarily to Fayetteville, Arkansas.

6 weeks ago I ran the fastest times of my life.

5 weeks ago I had taken several days off for hip pain and restarted running.

4 weeks ago I thought I had a shot.

3 weeks ago I readjusted training expectations but not my goals.

1 week ago I weighed some heavy decisions.

4 days ago I spectated at the Olympic Trials Marathon and wouldn’t have it any other way (okay, maybe not exactly-but here’s a heart warming takeaway).

Here’s the thing. It stinks to be injured and yes, I am terribly heartbroken for myself and for the many others who have invested so much love and care for me in chasing dreams - my husband, my family, my coach, my principal, co-workers and my students, my medical super hero support team, Road Runners Club of America, our close knit Minnesota running Community and rabbit, a company who pours so much love and support into our sport.

And while I do morn the loss of the opportunity, I do know that along the way, we made only the best next decision we knew to make. But this post isn’t about that, it’s not about the injury process. I want to share how incredibly amazing it was to connect with spectators at the Olympic Trials Marathon.

I grew up watching my older brothers race and in particular my eldest brother, Josh, race at the top of the US Road Circuit. There is a certain excitement that hits when the motorcade zooms by to clear the course and certainly when you first see the lead truck and get up on your toes trying to see the competition or edging onto the street to get a better look. Those excitements still live in me when I watch a race but what was different this past weekend was watching the race alongside my family members and seeing that excitement live within them. And even more so, was the unconditional support they showed, whether I was able to race or not, whether Tyler was able to hit his goal or not, they were there and they were ready to celebrate every step along the way. To my family, friends, supporters - thank you.

I realized as I moved along the course, these same excitements and unconditional love are shared by so many others who came out to support their loved ones or thier “dark horses” in pursuit of their own goals. The absurd signs, the trying to snag a non-blurry photo, the calf-raises to see over the crowd, and the anxious updating of the athlete tracker. When asking spectators who they were cheering for, they lit up when they shared the OTQ story of their son or daughter, niece or nephew or they lit up to share how they are connected to the sport and came to support Olympic hopefuls, not personally knowing a single one but cheering for all.

I know when I race, the course can get lonely when it’s quiet and that’s when the race can get tough. This weekend was such a gentle reminder to look to the crowd for support. Because they are there for you, regardless of your last mile split or despite which pack you are in. So whether you out performed your goal on Saturday or fell painfully short, know those amazing crowds of spectators were there for you in Atlanta and are still rooting for you long past the finish line. As Esther Akins (friend and teammate from afar) said, “Nobody cares how fast you run. People just want to see you happy”.