I sit here, at the end of 2020 - a year most would argue was downright horrible - with my eyes set of 2021.
There were a lot of things I failed to do in 2020. I know it’s not good to dwell on the failures, but I don’t necessarily count my missed goals this year as failure. For so many of us, surviving was the number one priority. And survive, I thankfully did.
At the start of the year, before coronavirus took over our lives, I was in the tail end of physical therapy, recovering from an ankle break. I was cleared to start running in February, and immediately planned for greatness. Ever the ambitious planner, 2020 was going to be my year. I was going to start with short spring trail races to get back in the groove - 10k, halfs, maybe a 25k here or there. Then by fall, I’d be back to peak fitness and ready to add distance. I wanted to push my 50k efforts - either with vert or speed. And I toyed with the idea of running the JFK 50 miler as my first 50 in November.
Outside of the running goals, I had many outdoor adventure goals as well. I was finally settling in to my leadership role with an awesome group of outdoor women here in DC - wild wilderness women - leading urban hikes once a month and finding my community I had been longing for for so long. I led two hikes before the world shut down, and had grand plans for more hikes to come - little urban adventures here in the heart of the city, to introduce women to trails if they were wholly new to hiking, or show my fellow outdoor lovers the ropes of city hiking with a group of women that provided a safety net for the weary urban warrior. I couldn’t wait to see where 2020 led me with this group. I have had such a hard time finding a community in DC, and these women finally felt like home. It was all taken away too quickly in March.
Leading a hike with Wild Wilderness Women in February 2020. This hike took us to the Capitol Stones in Rock Creek Park, and was my last hike I led before coronavirus shut everything down here in DC
When coronavirus first took hold, and the world went into shutdown, I used running as my escape. In May, combined with a distance challenge my work had going to encourage members to get out (safely) into the watershed we work to protect, I logged well over 100 miles. Socially distanced running was my escape from the otherwise stationary life that I now lived. Gone were the 6 mile bike commutes in the mornings to wake me up and strengthen my legs. Gone were the mile walks to the metro. Gone was …. everything really.
I hired a running coach in late June to help me try and run a solo marathon. Things went great at first, and he was an absolutely phenomenal asset for me through the very end of our time together this fall. With his support, I started building speed through intentional workouts - something I haven’t done in a long time. I was held accountable to slow my pace to support long-term health, especially for my injury prone body. I was hitting all my marks through mid-September, but then *wham*. I just lost motivation. Nothing could inspire me to lace up my running shoes. I just didn’t have the willpower to get up and get out. I sat at home, wishing I could go running, but not wanting to take the first step necessary to actually do so. 2020, man.
New year, new me
While 2020 was on some accounts an utter failure on the one hand, the mere fact that I am here to write about how upset I am for not meeting my goals articulates an utter privilege of health and economic status I am remiss to underscore. I am so grateful for everything I have and so grateful that I have the ability to project forward into next year with a glimmer of hope and optimism. For so many, that is not a reality.
As I do look into 2021, there are some major life milestones ahead of me. I turn 30 this coming year. We have our wedding 2.0 (we were supposed to get married in 2020, and actually did, but postponed the big party a year because of covid). At the end of the year, I have some travel booked for a dear friends wedding in Costa Rica. I’m hopeful for growth at work. And I’m hopeful that the world will return to some semblance of stability, enough to afford me the opportunity to reunite with my dear wild wilderness women, and begin to rebuild my community here in DC.
As for running - I’m taking my goal setting one season at a time this year. I’m looking forward to just my 30th birthday as a goal benchmark - early April. From now til then, I am training intentionally for a very meaningful solo effort. I plan to run the length of the Maryland portion of the Appalachian trail from Pen Mar to Harpers Ferry. 40-42 miles depending on who you talk to and how you measure. A manageable distance, but the greatest distance I will have ever covered, especially solo.
This actual solo run won’t be the hard part though - as any good runner truly knows. The mental gymnastics I will have to go through to convince my body to get up each morning and go for a run is the real challenge. I’m determined to make it work - and I’m determined to not beat myself up if I let workouts slip.
To hold myself accountable, I am hoping to be more active here on this blog. I might talk through training, maybe gear, maybe my struggles to get out the door. I will probably talk a bit about why I chose the MD AT as my solo goal. I might not post every week, but I hope to document the highs and the lows of returning to training in the middle of a pandemic, in the middle of winter.
For now, good riddance 2020. I welcome the light of hope that is 2021.