Failing hurts.

The way things unfolded, I was convinced I was meant to be a pacer. Honestly, I'm not unconvinced even now that I've failed at it.
When I ran alongside Mark during the Rock N Roll marathon here in STL last October, the thought came to me that I would be really good at the task of pacing a group in a race.
This was a huge thing for me to think I would be good at anything, but I accepted the idea and even posted about it on Facebook. It was an idea I could really get behind even though I had no idea how I would even get a chance to try in a race.
Fast forward a few months, and on a whim one day I googled "how to be a pacer" then "race pacing". I found a website with one mans email plastered on it. Without a second thought, I emailed and asked boldly, "How can I do this?" He responded a few hours later and by then I had lost all nerve and was shocked when he suggested I fill out an application and then do a phone interview the next day.
The very next morning, as I ran with my friends, I had completely convinced myself that I was not good enough to actually BE a pacer.
I got to work and talked to my boss- who happens to be one of my best friends as well- and asked her if I should just forget this whole idea, because I didn't have a recent PR to put down on the application. She suggested that I put down a recent time from a winter race I had done and encouraged me to send it in.
I was so hesitant but I did it anyway.
Then, the phone interview came. When pacer Jim asked me why I wanted to do this, my response was "I was born to do this". I meant it.
He then told me it just so happened he had a spot available for the half marathon for the Go! Stl race coming up 4 weeks later. I could not believe it.
I literally was handed a dream.
As all of my friends know, it is all I have talked about for weeks. I couldn't help me. ME, I was going to pace a group to their goal! ME!
I wasn't even nervous leading up to the race. I was nothing but excited. Not afraid to fail at all! I know that I can run a steady pace- especially anything in the 11 range because as our mileage piled up for marathon training, it was the pace we'd been running 90% of the time.
I was very nervous about fitting in with the other pacers. I was meeting serious over-achievers, after all, and I was consumed by the "I-don't-fit-ins". I didn't let them win, though. I showed up for my allotted time to serve at the race expo booth, and met several pacers during that 2 and a half hour span. Yes, they were very lean. Yes, their stories were of the Ironman and super-speedy marathon time variety. But, I held my own. I knew I was meant to be a part of this.
The next day was the pasta dinner; and by this point I was past the initial jitters of meeting a group of amazing athletes.I hadn't met everyone yet, but so far, so good.
I do not do well in social situations. This is probably why my best friends are the most outgoing, friendly people ever. I get to be the quiet side-kick that stands there and smiles nicely while they do the talking (Hello Jessie, Leandra, and Mark! I'm talking about you here!) But, I decided this was my chance to step out of my comfort zone and do the best I could. We sat with whole table of brand-new friends and had great conversation (yes, more ironman stories ensued)
Race morning came early; I was up and out of bed by 4:20. I wasn't nervous at all, which is so different for me for a typical race morning. But, of course, this wasn't the typical race morning. I had work to do!
We made it to the meeting place for photos and were out the lobby doors before 6:30. We made our way to the corrals and assumed our positions.
I began meeting very nervous runners shortly after. People with questions. People with concerns. People wondering if they could stick by me for the race. People who shared this was their longest mileage, their first race. A tiny Asian woman approached me and said she was told by her husband to stay with me the whole time. She asked if that was okay. I said it was of course, my pleasure. I announced that we'd be walking through water stations. I told everyone to wait for the later tables to drink. I told them I'd hold my pace sign high so that they wouldn't lose me. I was thanked no less than a dozen times for pacing.
We climbed a hill at mile 3 and I said loudly "If it were easy, everyone would do it!" and people clapped. By this time I had two guys running on each side of me, and they were both running their first race. We chatted about the city, about the beautiful day, about marathons. I encouraged each of them to give one a try someday.
Around mile 4, some confusion begin to set in about exactly where I was on pace. I say this because I had some mental math to do in regard to my chronograph compared to the clocks. Soon after my brain began trying to figure where we were on pace, another pacer approached me and asked what my thoughts were about the clocks. I told him his guess was as good as mine, and shared the knowledge I had in regard to the clock time when we began and whatnot.
His conclusion was that we were ahead by a little bit and that we'd keep that going. I knew I had him until mile 9.5 when he would carry on with the full course and those of us running the half would be making a turn.
Around mile 7, we began climbing a hill. I told the guy next to me to pick a visual- the stoplight at the top of the hill- and focus on getting to it. Things were going well. I had the other pacer there with me as a visual reminder that we were at a good pace.
About mile 8, I began to get worried because I hadn't been able to make sense of the clock times and I knew it was important to check in with pacing. With a handful of miles to go, if we were behind, we could pick it up still,and if we were ahead as I imagined we were,it would afford us an easy climb on the last hill up ahead.
Then, I began doubting my ability. And I began wondering if I was in fact on pace at all. Then, mile 9 came and I knew I was on my own with my group. I looked at my watch and tried desperately to do the mental math to see what time I was hitting at that mile in regard to my pace band and watches. First thought, we're off by 2 minutes.Then, no, we're right on. Then, maybe that isn't right either. Then, panic. Then, prayer. Then more prayer. Then, I told the guy next to me to carry on, to go ahead. Then before I could think twice, I stepped off the course, I found a dumpster, I threw my sign in, took my race bib off, and sat down in an alley and cried my eyes out for 15 minutes.
I was a failure. I was hurting so badly. I was so ashamed. It happened that fast.
I walked back to where I knew Mark was,which was mile 10 of the half and mile 25 of the full. I passed by my friends along the way who were looking for me. I couldn't bear to let them see me. I made it to the car, sat and cried to Mark for a few, and then I shut down.
I went to bed when I got home and stayed there until this morning when I got up as quietly as I could and left the house by 6:15 to get to work early before anyone would see me or have to interact with me. I have never in my entire life felt so ashamed as I did today and yesterday. I literally could not face even my husband.
I had him cancel my counseling appt. and I told him I'd not be going to other things we had planned this week. My friends had been sending kind text messages for 2 days but I couldn't bring myself to answer any of them.
I received an email from pacer Jim asking what had happened, he couldn't find my finish time? I told him what had happened. I thanked him for the opportunity and apologized for failing my duty.
Soon after, I received a race recap email that had my name and a red DNF (did not finish) next to my pace duty finish time.
I went outside and cried. Failure confirmed, just in case I had forgotten.
Late in the day I found myself typing my story to my friend at work and within a few minutes she had reminded me that I was brave enough to try, and that she was proud of me.
I decided to try and get back in to my couseling appt. I'm glad I did.
I was still very ashamed, but I went and saw my counselor-who is also a runner- who knew I was pacing yesterday..and told her what happened.
I told her I couldn't see the lesson and I surely couldn't make any sense of this meltdown.I told her I was so tired of getting in my own way.
I cried,a lot. She told me that this incident was very similar in many ways to the topic we've been slowly approaching in my usual sessions- the rape. I didn't understand. She then walked me through the similar feelings I had going into each event- excited, happy...and how each took dramatic turns and suddenly I was confused and afraid- and how I had the feeling I had to stop and get away.
Who knew? I certainly didn't. I am glad to know this now. I asked how do I get past this? She said I am missing a critical internal voice. The nurturing mother voice. The one that says hey, you can trust yourself, you've got this. She says we will work on this. I told her I am ready to learn.
She told me a story about a team doing this obstacle course that involved building trust. How every person was instructed that day to give what they believed was 100% effort. She said as each person went forward, their 100% looked very different. She suggested that I try to see that yesterday, I gave my 100% effort the best that I could. I did have a meltdown. I did not cross the finish line. I did not get my group from start to finish. I am so, so sad about that. I can't convey how sad I feel about that. I feel sad for myself, too. I deserve to trust myself.
Do you know, I looked at my watch, which I stopped when I stopped, and I did the math today, and I was EXACTLY where we needed to be. 11:20 pace at mile 9. I was right on. I had it in me to run that pace and I knew it going in.
I do not see the lesson here yet except this- I must learn to trust myself.
I am not sure how I will learn, but this certainly has given me the drive to move past my fears and learn to do so.