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I walked through the gate of the newly refurbished high school track stadium. It’s less than two miles from my house, so I’ve run by it hundreds of times, but I’d never been inside until today. Usually it’s locked, but we rented it for a few hours, so I waved my way past the masked security guard, dropped my bag on the fresh green turf, and scanned the field to note the long straightaways and narrow turns of a facility made more with football than track and field in mind.
It brought back memories of my earliest meets. I can still hear the official who asked every week, “Ladies, this is the 3,000 meters. How many laps are we doing?” We’d reply with a mix of enthusiasm and eye rolls, “Seven and a half.”
After I warmed up, I looked over at Aaron, who was pacing us before his event, and Anne and Maddie, the other two women in the race. The sun was getting low in the sky. The crowd was upbeat but sparse—just the official, timers, a few coaches, a few volunteers, and a family member or two. “This feels like high school,” I thought, “like I’m at a dual meet in Odessa Montour, on my last event of the night” as we were about to step to the line before our seven and a half laps.
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My mind jumped back to the present. It had been six months since my last race. I wasn’t getting paid for this. The sight of the raised starting pistol made my stomach knot with the familiar punch of adrenaline. A small smile twitched across my face. It’s about time!
The results were underwhelming for me, but the vibes were good as the other ladies set PRs in a distance none of us run often. To be honest, there were some things missing that I love best about racing: the lights, the announcer, the crowd, the full range of athletes in other events who are excellent at what they do, doing amazing things around me.
But it was kind of fun. It felt more like recreation than professional sports. It was still a necessary hard effort that was helping me get through the year. I train to race, then the race advances the training, and that’s the pattern that helps me ride the escalator of fitness to the next levels.
As we cooled down along the dark city street and talked about what’s next, I thought, “We ran a race and we’re planning another one? Track is back! Kind of.”
Baby Steps Are Still Steps
Maybe you’ve run a road race already, with masks abounding and waivers in hand. Or maybe you were able to do an intrasquad meet or race with a club or team. I’ve decided to stay local, although there is a season of sorts in Europe. (I wasn’t fit enough for that, and as an American it was...complicated.)
These recent options for racing are micro, mostly local, home-brewed track events held at high school or middle school facilities. The schedule of events was limited, often resulting in specialized distance, sprint, or field meets in efforts to keep the numbers down. It’s been a time that saw fit athletes still unleashing big PRs. While these weren’t always “official” by the USATF standards, they were officially confidence-boosting and barrier-breaking for the athletes. It’s also been a good time to try other events (like Emma Coburn focusing on the mile, and more extremely, this with Paul Chelimo, Stanley Kebenei and Shadrack Kipchirchir) and have some fun challenges like these during a time when literally less is on the line.
But they are real meets, so let me tell you something you already know: Although virtual races and live streamed time trials are some kind of goal, these are better.
It’s true they aren’t the same races we left back in the winter. We had to send in three negative COVID tests that week, then pass temperature checks at the gate. We had a few extra waivers to sign, and handing out anything extra, like food or water, was discouraged. It was a more subdued vibe overall. Many of us hadn’t seen each other in a while, but tried to talk from a distance, not hug, and were hesitant to high-five. Masks High Impact Sports Bras strides. Although there weren’t zero spectators, there was a limit on the numbers allowed in the facility, so it was mostly coaches and volunteers cheering us on. The smell of hand sanitizer and the odd rogue surgical mask occasionally wafted across the breezy warm-up field.
Once the gun went off, the pack bunched tightly as usual, and we were all huffing and puffing around one another, focusing on the next split and mostly forgetting to worry about COVID for a few minutes. After we crossed the finish line and reoxygenated the parts of our brains that do reasoning, the pandemic reality returned. Can we put our arms around each other for a photo? Probably not? The masks went back on for the cooldowns, and there was a little less mingling and hanging out after the event.
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Inching Toward Normalcy
I think we did the best we could considering all the unusual circumstances of racing during this time. Maybe someone hadn’t had a massage in seven months, or had no track access all summer, or didn’t know the race was happening until a few days out, or any circumstance that’s less than the controlled ideal we’re used to seeking in the name of high performance. It’s a little frustrating to not be firing on all cylinders that way, but better than going to practice by yourself again.
As strange as the scene was, there was a hint of normalcy to the fact that we were allowed to have the events at all. If the existence of sports is a sign of the health of a society, then this felt like incremental progress. It may be two steps forward, one step back for a while, but we got a few steps forward officially recorded on the board. Because of all the necessary precautions, the meets felt a little depressing, but also like a ray of hope that I didn’t expect to land so sweetly.
It feels good to be able to look toward races on the calendar again. Hopefully, soon we can all do that, and open up the roads for longer events. When you can lace up again, things may look different. They may be less convenient in some ways (and more in others—like whatever will happen with the overwhelming expos). Races may have limited field sizes or restrictions or new pre-race procedures like testing.
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But you’ll be wearing your racing gear, there will be enough voices cheering you on, you’ll hear the footsteps chasing you from behind, and see singlets to catch ahead of you. You’ll know this is not virtual reality. It’s a real, flesh-and-blood race! You’ll finally be returning to playing the game, and although it may be leaner and less frilly, it’ll still be fun. And it will quench your running spirit, the one that was holding on like the resilient vine that it is but wasn’t really blooming again until then.
Molly Huddle is a two-time Olympian who holds the American record at 10,000 meters. She placed fourth at the 2018 Long COVID May Reduce Exercise Capacity in a personal best of 2:26:44.
