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By Erin MastersonBefore I dive into my story of running 30 races in one year, and what this experience has meant to me, let me first apologize for belaboring what I know has become a tired topic of conversation for those who know me. Yes, I ran 30 races in one year as a way to celebrate my 30th birthday. It was a cool experience to be sure, and a very challenging one. But I acknowledge that it was a very ME centric event, and one that lasted 12 long months at that. I'm sure by the end everyone was silently urging me to just finish the damn 30th race already!!! So, thanks for listening, and for reading this, if you are.
For those who are tracking, my 30th birthday was in July, but I decided to attempt this venture as a New Year's Resolution, to span Calendar Year 2013. My first race was January 19, 2013, and 30th race was December 8, 2013. And yes, I have a spreadsheet with all my results.
To be honest, in a way, "30 for 30" came to define me over the past year. The mission, the effort, and the sheer ridiculousness of it all became embodied in some sort of epic journey that I could.not. stop.talking.about. Seriously. Anyone I encountered - from my friends, coworkers, track club teammates, people I met at races, clerks at the local running shoe store, the mailman - all got an earful. Often unprompted, I'd offer nonchalantly, "So, I'm doing this thing for my 30th birthday where I run 30 races in one year." The reactions ranged from disbelief, to admiration, to confusion. Most people thought I was nuts, but in a good way. (PS All runners are nuts, in a good way).
I found that many people could understand why I'd do it, or at least respect why I'd chosen such a long drawn out goal, just to celebrate a birthday. Others thought it was a foolish venture, especially during the weeks (ok.. months) when I was injured and still racing, determined not to let a small thing like hip tendinitis or plantar fasciitis keep me from reaching my goal. But whatever the reaction, it WAS a reaction, a double take, a heightened interest. It brought me a new level of connection with people, a greater sense of engagement, and a clearly defined identity, at least in the box I've built for myself as a runner. This year became all about quantity over quality, at least that's what I began to tell people.
I became somewhat of a spectacle, a crazed figure edging up to the starting line at seemingly every race, both large and small, throughout the DC area (and a few outside). I'm sure this reaction was in part why I did it. What started out as a personal goal for me - a way to celebrate, rather than bemoan my 30th (aka my official entry into adulthood, my acceptance that I had put the freshness of my 20s behind me), had become instead a quest in which I sought out and relied heavily upon the interest, engagement, and support from my own personalized community. Even if they didn't realize it, the responses I elicited - from strangers, friends and acquaintances - had become part of my reason for running race after race. In the end, I desperately needed to finish, almost more for them than for myself.
Despite all of that attention seeking, the actual running of races was still very important to me. Looking back, I'm proud to say I didn't check out of single race. Each one got the same amount of effort, seriousness, and respect that I think running a race deserves. I didn't always PR, or even satisfy myself with my performance, but there was never a time when I started running and thought to myself, "I'm just gonna jog this one, and have fun." Racing IS fun to me, but it's fun because I work hard and test my limits, and have the satisfaction at the end to show for it. While there were some races where I cruised easily and surprisingly to a PR, there were certainly others where I pushed myself so hard I had trouble standing afterwards. That's when I knew I was doing my best.
Some races went extremely well. My PR in the Boston Marathon, for example, was a defining life experience for me, and not only because of the events afterwards. Winning the Marine Corps Historic 10k, top finishes at all Pacers Lost Dog 5k races, and PRing in the Army 10 Mile, were major highlights also. I am proud of the medals and age group awards and other swag I've collected. I'm pleased with my accomplishments, and for the work they reflect, day in and day out, for the past year.
I'm happier by far though, with the life experience this mission has brought me. The people I've met, the emotions I've felt, the support I've discovered that is out there for me, has been astounding. I've gained other things too. Though I've always been a runner, in the past year I've built out my network in the DC running community, in part because I'm starting to recognize all the same faces at the starting line. This has been reinforced through my role as Social Media Director of the NOVA Running Club. My development as a leader of that group has allowed me to engage and motivate others in a way I haven't before. That's brought a great deal of satisfaction to me. Through my connections with NOVA, I'm also blogging and writing for running websites and magazines now, which has been a surprising and astoundingly fun new adventure.
Throughout it all, I've been fortunate to count on some pretty stellar folks. And because this is my blog post, I feel at liberty to thank some of them by name, including my long time running friends (Emily Cole, Erin Shipe, Lauren Coghlan, Melle Patrick, Jillian Obermeier, Karen Egan, Meg Austin), my NOVA teammates (most notably Justin Buenaflor, Katie Tomlinson, Martha Merz, Mark Drosky, and Betty Blank), and many other dear friends who have supported me, both in person and virtually, along the way (including Soo Lee Davis, Becca Velarde, Taress Hsu, Deana Edelmann, and Vinn White). Of course, I can't forget my mom and dad, my brother Andy and sister Katie, "siblings" Julia Rehberg and Bryan Dillner, and countless others who have shown an interest enough to listen to me, or run with me, or cheer me on.
Through it all, I've always been able to count on the unflagging support of NOVA Coach Jerry Alexander, who I first met when I broke his heart and decided to run for W&M instead of American, waaaay back in 2001. Sorry again about that, Coach Jerry. I'll keep working to make it up to you.
People are pretty freaking amazing when you need them to be, and I feel blessed to have the people I do in my life. You all have made this possible, and more enjoyable than I ever would have hoped. So thanks. Thanks a WHOLE lot.
Who knows what 31 will bring? I'm not sure, but I know I'll be living it up. See you out there!
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