Years ago, while interviewing Michael Jordan, a reporter asked him what it feels like to be so successful. Jordan answered with one word: “uncomfortable”. He went on to explain that in order to continue to improve as a basketball player and stay on top, he had to constantly push himself out of his comfort zone to work harder.
I’ve spent years pushing myself out of my comfort zone. I don’t eat to feel better any more. I eat to either set up for a big workout or to recover from one. When I’m stressed I go for a run, not out for ice cream. I’ve left all my comfort zones except for one: doing a race in the extreme cold.
I thought about that interview with Michael Jordan yesterday morning as I headed into New York City for my first half marathon of the year. This one was the “Manhattan Half”, one of the five borough half marathons put on by NY Road Runners every year. I signed up for this one for one primary reason: the race is always held in January.
I personally live in fear of January. It’s cold, it’s dark. Did I mention it’s cold? Running in January is not so bad. The problem is that you need to wait around for about 45 minutes before a race in shoes with ventilation holes in them, so by the time you start running you’re pretty sure that your feet have been replaced with blocks of ice. I signed up for this race for the primary reason that I was going to push myself out of a comfort zone that apparently resides in a condo in Palm Beach, Florida where their idea of cold is 65 degrees.
Since I’m also training for the New Jersey marathon in May, I’m ready to tackle a 13.1 mile run. The problem is the weather. I have become addicted to weather.com, and have been watching the 10 day report for a while now to see how the weather will be the day of my race. And I know weather patterns change daily, but all I’ve seen since the day of my race finally came up is a picture of a cloud with snow coming out of it. And for once, the weather folks are right. They predicted that the first real snow storm of the winter is going to hit on January 21st, the day of my half marathon. Damn.
Like any woman who has given birth to at least one child, I always get up several times in the middle of the night to pee. At about 1AM I got up and looked out the window. Sure enough, the snow had started. When I got for real at 4:30, I knew this race was in trouble. Instead of wearing my sneakers to the race, I actually had to pack them and wear snow boots. This was not going to be good. I also packed about 50 other layers to change into when I was done so that I wouldn’t have to come home in freezing and completely soaking wet clothes.
I set out for my ½ mile walk to the train station, and was escorted by the 3 inches of snow on the ground. All I kept thinking was “this isn’t so bad. I can do this,” kind of ignoring that I was wearing boots warm enough to be comfortable in Barrow, Alaska, but that would have to come off before the gun went off to start the half marathon.
As I sat on my train to go into the City, I decided to check the NYRR website. Right on their home page they posted that due to the bad conditions, the race would still be on, but was going to be an untimed “fun run”. I’m sorry, I get the word “run”, but nothing about running for over 2 hours in wet snow when it was 27 degrees was going to earn a rating of “fun” in my world.
I spent the rest of my train ride debating what to do. Should I do the race in order to conquer my fear of running in crappy conditions and leave my comfort zone, or should I accept that running is simply not meant to be a winter sport and I should go home and do something that’s more logical for this time of year: ride on an indoor bike trainer, workout with my resistance bands, bake cookies and drink hot cocoa?
My train pulled into Grand Central and I got out. I immediately walked outside and checked what the conditions were. As I walked out, I was slapped in the face by a huge wind gust. The snow had turned a bit into sleet, and felt like small needles hitting me in my face. The cold bit right through my many layers of clothes, most of which I wouldn’t be wearing in the race. I also noticed that the streets had gotten very slick and icy (as evidenced by the cab that slid down the street past me).
I had my answer. I turned around and went back into Grand Central. Nope, I didn’t go to the subway to take up to the race start. I went and bought a cup of coffee, and then waited for the next train home.
During my train ride home, I tried to decide if “Fat Girl” had made that decision, had even turned a fan on in my brain to make it think it was even colder and windier than the actual conditions outside. I really don’t think it was. I think it was “Fit Girl”, the one who has worked out for 26 days straight without a rest day, the one who has completely upped the intensity of her workouts. Not only is “Fit Girl” an athlete, but she’s learning that to push herself out of her comfort one she needs to learn balance. Yes, doing a race in the cold is an important thing to overcome. But refraining from slipping on ice in a race in January and knocking oneself out of competition for the rest of the season is more important. And this “Fit Girl” has a family to take care of, and I know I will make a much better and more productive mom without my leg in a cast.
I got home and my family greeted me like I had won the race, and I kind of felt like I had. I’ve reorganized my workouts this week so I’ll still get that 13.1 mile run in. Granted, it will be about 40 degrees the day I do it, but the streets won’t be icy, and I’ll be certain to keep my – balance :-).
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