The Branford Road Race

Growing up in Branford, I’ve always spent Father’s Day weekend at the Branford Festival.  You can count on lots of fun, good music, delicious food and running into old friends who are in town just for the festival.  Sunday morning is spent at the Branford Road Race.  You either line the streets waiting for the runners to come in, or you participate in the 2 mile fitness walk, getting back in time to cheer on the incoming runners.  It’s always about the runners.  They always return to the center of town with a hero’s welcome, raucous applause, pats on the back and the announcers booming voice on the loud speaker “Thank you… for running… the …Branford Road Race” to each runner as they cross the finish line.  Sound a little Norman Rockwell?  For lifelong Branford residents this overcrowded, bursting at the seams day is our last ditch effort to hold onto that small town community feeling we all had while growing up there.

I have spent the past 30 years standing on the side of the road cheering on those runners.  I always imagined what it would be like crossing that finish line and hearing my name called out.  Every few years I would promise myself that I would get fit and run in the next race.  I’ve watched my sister run it.  I have watched friends and family members run it.  I have still not done it.  I considered it in April but quickly changed my mind because running 5 miles by June 19 would be very unlikely.  I decided to wait until next year when I could run it faster and have no worry about coming in last. 

In general I don’t usually worry or care about coming in last.  I came in last at the Salem Road Race.  It was me, a police car and a very long line of cars waiting for the road to open up again.  Michelle and Leah came back and ran the last few hundred feet with me.  There were times when Leah was pushing me not to stop and walk, literally pushing me because I was so tired from all the hills.  Being last that day was actually really invigorating.  People were cheering me on and high fiving me from their front lawns.  I didn’t care that I was coming in last because it was one of the hardest courses I have seen and I was so proud that I was doing it.  I crossed the finish line and the race closed down behind me.  On that day last was ok for me.  Last is not ok for me for the Branford Road Race.

I got an incredibly motivating email from a friend the other day.  She told me to “Stop being a "spectator" THIS YEAR....register for the Branford Road Race...this year is the year of change and doing things you normally wouldn't do. I KNOW you can accomplish this, to add to your list. It's mind over matter!”  I consider her to be among those elite few athletes who I strive to be like.  At 25 she is fast, strong and unstoppable.  Her abilities are endless and she truly believes in me.  Her words stopped me and made me consider it again.  I have not stopped thinking about it since then.  It has almost become obsessive.

I don’t usually back away from a challenge but this is different.  This could realistically be public humiliation in my hometown.  Slightly dramatic I know, but that’s how I feel.  I talked to my “fitness mentor” about the race.  She went from zero to marathon runner and has run the BRR before.  She is incredibly inspiring and is always motivating me.  I don’t think I would have even considered becoming a “runner” if it weren’t for her encouragement.  She told me to do it.  She too believes I can do it.  As supportive and motivating as these two women are, the voices in my head are still telling me no.  The voices telling me that I am not a runner, reminding me how slow I am, are much louder than my friends.  I can only imagine how loud those voices will be in the 10 minutes before the start of the BRR.

Committing to the Branford Road Race means I will need to add 2 miles to my run in the next 2 ½ weeks and get faster at it.  I am sure I can add the miles but I am not going to get faster in that time.  I still do not like running and adding 2 more miles now will make it even less fun.  I don’t want this race to kill what little running confidence I have.  If I don’t do it well, I will be crushed.  I checked the finish time from the past few years.  I will come in last.  Many minutes later last.  They might not realize that I am still out there kind of last.

Not committing to the Branford Road Race means another year of sitting on the sidelines, not living the life I want.  This is supposed to be my year of not looking back and having a year of “I wish I had’s.”  If I truly want to live this kind of life than I need to run the Branford Road Race.  It shouldn’t matter that I will come in last.  I should be just as proud that I did it as I have with the other races.  I will be so mad at myself if I don’t do it.  I am sure it will be a big regret.

I get that I am putting a lot of unnecessary pressure on myself about running the road race.  I know it doesn’t really matter if I walk some of it, if I pass out or vomit 50 feet from the finish or if come I last.  But it matters to me.  For me, The Branford Road Race is the pinnacle of road races.  This silly 5 mile race is my NYC or Boston Marathon.  It’s all about my pride.  Here’s where I am supposed to say I am going to do it, I’m going to run the Branford Road Race.  I’m not ready to say that.  I honestly don’t know if I will.  Today I am planning on cheering on my friends, imagining myself running alongside them, keeping up their pace, next year.  Who knows what tomorrow will bring, after all, I did register for the Tough Mudder and that’s 13 miles.