Mourning a race
Mourning your race, not just any race....
Have you ever reacted to someone’s sneezing a week before an important race? Could that sneeze be a possible threat to my upcoming race? To all my months of training? The early wake ups on weekends? That goal I have been working so hard for? If not that sneeze, what if I sprain my ankle changing a light bulb? What if something prevents me from running my race? Am I alone to feel like my body is like a rare protected specie the week before an important race? It sounds silly when I put it like that.... But is it? I’ve sometimes wondered how that would feel, if I had to miss an important race. But I knew it would never happen to me. Or could it?
I’m a single mom and have my kids full time, work as an O.R. nurse, work on call meaning sleepless nights and, I run. IRun because I love to run. I love how it makes me feel. Two years ago, I ran my first marathon in Ottawa. This year, I qualified for the Boston marathon and am on the list for the 2015 marathon where I will go with my two daughters. This summer, I trained for the Montreal Oasis marathon that took place September 28Th. I had done my best training ever! My training was aiming a 3:20 goal and I was ready. Like most runners, I always find time to run. I run after work before I pickup my kids, I run post call after sleepness nights and I get up early Saturday mornings for long runs! When taper time came around, I felt proud. I did everything right, rest, train, eat right and positive thinking.
Two weeks before the marathon, what looked like a heavy menstrual period, turned into a hemorrhage. It felt like a nightmare. I could not go more than 15 minutes without heading back to the washroom...My hemoglobin was going down, my iron levels went down to nothing and then I became symptomatic with shortness of breath, fatigue, headache, dizziness and very pale skin....
The week before M day, I went to bed early, ate everything that contains iron and prayed. With some medication, I was able to slow the bleeding down a few days before the race. On Friday, my doctor sat me down and told me I was not running on Sunday.....
The mourning process had already begun. I was in denial. I refused to think I was ill. I had done the training and I was going to run a 3:20 marathon on Sunday. But deep down, I knew he was right. I felt deep pain to my soul, emptiness and sadness. I cried!
But according to my colleagues and friends, this was just a race. I was sad for missing a simple race. There would be many more and I would come back stronger.
To me, it was MY race! It was running down the streets of Montreal recalling with pride everytime I put my running shoes on and did the training, tired or not. I am not an elite runner. I do not get paid to run and I don’t have to perform like a super hero at every race. But I run because I love to. I put my heart into every training. There is no medal hanging on my mirror, nor is there a new sportstat 3:20 time for that September 28 date. But I feel like 99% of that marathon was accomplished in training and I am proud for that.
I don’t know for you, but I strongly believe that there is a grieving process when you miss a race. I felt like my body let me down. I went to the marathon as a spectator and it felt bitter sweet. I wanted to run and wanted to see me finish at 3:20. I felt sad and even angry. But I was happy for every runner I saw out there. They inspired me to come back stronger and I will! Boston here I come!
I have since had surgery and feel relieved I will no longer have to deal with anemia. Till then, beware of sneezes J
Sarah Bachand
Mourning racer from Montreal
Have you ever reacted to someone’s sneezing a week before an important race? Could that sneeze be a possible threat to my upcoming race? To all my months of training? The early wake ups on weekends? That goal I have been working so hard for? If not that sneeze, what if I sprain my ankle changing a light bulb? What if something prevents me from running my race? Am I alone to feel like my body is like a rare protected specie the week before an important race? It sounds silly when I put it like that.... But is it? I’ve sometimes wondered how that would feel, if I had to miss an important race. But I knew it would never happen to me. Or could it?
I’m a single mom and have my kids full time, work as an O.R. nurse, work on call meaning sleepless nights and, I run. IRun because I love to run. I love how it makes me feel. Two years ago, I ran my first marathon in Ottawa. This year, I qualified for the Boston marathon and am on the list for the 2015 marathon where I will go with my two daughters. This summer, I trained for the Montreal Oasis marathon that took place September 28Th. I had done my best training ever! My training was aiming a 3:20 goal and I was ready. Like most runners, I always find time to run. I run after work before I pickup my kids, I run post call after sleepness nights and I get up early Saturday mornings for long runs! When taper time came around, I felt proud. I did everything right, rest, train, eat right and positive thinking.
Two weeks before the marathon, what looked like a heavy menstrual period, turned into a hemorrhage. It felt like a nightmare. I could not go more than 15 minutes without heading back to the washroom...My hemoglobin was going down, my iron levels went down to nothing and then I became symptomatic with shortness of breath, fatigue, headache, dizziness and very pale skin....
The week before M day, I went to bed early, ate everything that contains iron and prayed. With some medication, I was able to slow the bleeding down a few days before the race. On Friday, my doctor sat me down and told me I was not running on Sunday.....
The mourning process had already begun. I was in denial. I refused to think I was ill. I had done the training and I was going to run a 3:20 marathon on Sunday. But deep down, I knew he was right. I felt deep pain to my soul, emptiness and sadness. I cried!
But according to my colleagues and friends, this was just a race. I was sad for missing a simple race. There would be many more and I would come back stronger.
To me, it was MY race! It was running down the streets of Montreal recalling with pride everytime I put my running shoes on and did the training, tired or not. I am not an elite runner. I do not get paid to run and I don’t have to perform like a super hero at every race. But I run because I love to. I put my heart into every training. There is no medal hanging on my mirror, nor is there a new sportstat 3:20 time for that September 28 date. But I feel like 99% of that marathon was accomplished in training and I am proud for that.
I don’t know for you, but I strongly believe that there is a grieving process when you miss a race. I felt like my body let me down. I went to the marathon as a spectator and it felt bitter sweet. I wanted to run and wanted to see me finish at 3:20. I felt sad and even angry. But I was happy for every runner I saw out there. They inspired me to come back stronger and I will! Boston here I come!
I have since had surgery and feel relieved I will no longer have to deal with anemia. Till then, beware of sneezes J
Sarah Bachand
Mourning racer from Montreal
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