Mckee is a senior at Kents Hill School where she has been a standout XC runner, winning the NEPSTA Division IV Championship title in 2014. She has a 5k personal best of 18:59.40, follow her this fall as she looks to stay healthy and run fast.
Bad races. Everyone has had at least one. Maybe there is some explanation for these races at times. Not enough sleep that week, went out too fast, dehydration - the reasons are endless. Festival of Champions 2015 was a puzzle for me. I just do not know what went wrong.
Going into the race, I set some high expectations for myself. I wanted to dive into the 18:00 range so badly. I wanted to race against all the fast Maine girls like nobody's business. The entire week, I went to sleep as early as I could, eliminated sugar from my diet, drank more water than I ever had, and visualized the race religiously each night. My running felt great over the whole week. I felt ready.
I got to the starting line earlier today with confidence. This was my last FOC and I was ready to go after it. My legs felt lighter than ever. When that gun went off, I bolted out of the start in perfect position. I hit the mile just under six minutes, poised for a great race. But heading up the "highway," I began to get passed. Girls who looked much more sprightly and determined than I powered on by and I lost my handle on the pack I was trying to hold onto over that next mile. Determined to stick with the pack, I gave it my all as we headed into the woods. But my legs just would not carry me any faster. The rest of the race was spent just trying to put one foot in front of the other as girls whizzed by on either side of me. I finished in 27th position with a time of 19:57 - slower than I had ever finished on that course by a landslide. Even freshman year I had been nineteen seconds faster. Even junior year after being injured I was twenty one seconds faster than I was today. No words can describe the level of resentment I felt for myself as I passed that finish line. Usually races like these had some sort of explanation, but this time things were different. There was no reason at hand. I was simply slower than I had ever imagined myself to be by a minute.
Races like these are not new for me, as I'm sure they are not for most people. After the race, all I wanted to do was rip myself to shreds. My last FOC, my chance for a PR was squandered away. With a smile I tried so hard to put on, I accepted the congratulations from my family, teammates, and friends. Some people told me "it's just a race," but I just couldn't grasp that. Although I appreciated everyone's kindness toward me, I was too lost in my thoughts of how poorly I had performed. I cheered on the very last of the girls with a choked up tone. I got texts from friends asking how I did and just couldn't bring myself to tell them of the performance. After trying desperately to keep my cool, I just couldn't pretend anymore. I disappeared on an extended cool down run and beat myself up about it. I didn't want anybody to see me like that. I hated running at that point. I hated racing. I wanted to just shut myself away, hang up my spikes, and just quit. I ran out to the outermost part of the course and sat down on the grass. I dropped my head down in my hands. Why this race? Why now?
It's 6:21 PM and I'm still running through this race in my head (ha, pun). I consider running such a big part of how I define myself that when a race doesn't go my way, I drown myself in my failure. I'm still trying to figure out what went wrong for me to have a race like this, especially the most hotly anticipated meet of my season. But in all of this I've gained some perspective. "It's just a race" is still something I can't totally believe yet, but I'm getting to the point of tolerance of that race. Not acceptance, but tolerance. Races like these happen to anyone and everyone. The best thing to do, as hard as it is, is to move on. I can't wallow in this one race forever. On to the next one. I still haven't quite moved on from this and maybe I never really will, it being my last FOC and all. But through all of this, the sun's still going to rise (cliche, I know, but very true). I'm still going to go on my long run tomorrow. I still have the rest of the season to go and my team needs me.
To my coaches, teammates, friends, even people I don't really know that were out there cheering for me today - hearing my name cheered is the most exhilarating thing. To all those people who walked up and talked to me after my race - your support means the world to me. To the people reading this - you guys are the best. The Maine running community is like no other and the amount of support I've received during and after this race as I have every race, good or bad, is incredible.
Bad races really aren't the end of the world as much as they seem like it sometimes. As a coach of mine said, "sometimes you win, sometimes you learn." I'll never be a pro at dealing with sucky races, but that's okay. Maybe I'll never know what went wrong today. But one thing I do know is that I'll be back next week, ready to race again. I learned that no, this is not the end of the world. Just the end of one race.
