Run YOUR race

Since I've given myself the challenge of being completely honest and totally myself on this blog, I thought it might be fun to share a childhood story of mine.
 I grew up in a small town and for the most part I loved it; I still love it. There's just something about having adult friends you've known since first grade. My elementary school, each year, hosted a field day. It wasn't meant for hardcore competitors, just for fun. The local students would compete in a preliminary meet during school, and then a final meet that night. For six years I dominated the sprinting events.  I was a natural sprinter. I loved to run (I wish I still did.) I remember anytime a new student would show up to school, after a brief introduction, I would ask so how fast do you run? My parents noticed my natural talent and decided to sign me up for a real deal track meet. There were girls from all over the county and I remember feeling the intense emotion of competition firing in my belly. (Have you ever had that feeling? It's a great feeling.) I was a good healthy mix of nervous and confident.  Up until this moment of competition, I had spent a lot of time devoted to running. I spent summers running dirt roads working on strategies and watching track on TV studying every aspect of the runners competing (obviously this was before the Internet :))  Moments before the race, the staff chose our race order, and we sat in a straight line waiting for our event.  I sat next to a very talkative girl; something I never did before a race was talk.  She babbled on and on about God knows what, I was busy visualizing.  When we were called to the blocks she leaned over to me and whispered you're the one I'm gonna have to watch. I just smiled at her.  See, when you study track as much as I had you can pick the winner before the race even starts.  I had my eye on a tall, lean girl with big thighs, well-developed calves, and small ankles. I knew she was my competition. She, also like me, sat quietly with no emotion on her face.  She was there to do work and so was I.


I drew the lane next to her. The gun sounded and I ran. I could hear her rhythmic breath as our strides matched step for step. She started to pull away and I dug deep, exhausting all of my reserve energy. We rounded the bend to the finish line and she turned it up. I could see my dad running with me alongside the track shouting, NOW Erica! Now!  I was used up. I had nothing left in my reserve to turn loose. She beat me. AND here's the moral of the story: She beat me by making me run her race. Now whether she was more experienced, lucky, or just plan better she set a pace that I had not trained for. In order to keep up with her pace, I used all of my energy and breath. She ran me out. I DID NOT run MY race.  Could I have won if I ran my race? Probably not, she was really good but at least I would have known she beat me at my race.
Ok Mamas, whose race are you running? Yours or someone else's? I write this post today for me as well as you. I am so guilty of being swept away by someone else's pace that I lose focus on my own race. Don't base your value on the actions of other mamas, blogs, or for the love Pinterest. You are imperfectly perfect. Sometimes that looks like a picnic at the park or sometimes it looks like clothes scattered everywhere, fighting kids in every room and you hiding in the bathroom. (We've all done it)  Cut yourself some slack, you're doing the best you can.
I've gotta go for now. Ring 3 has decided to be superman and by superman I mean completely covering her feet and legs in red marker. :) Stay strong Mamas!