Done with NCAA track career; what’s next?

What does all this depressing stuff about not running for Baylor and how I got to a bad place mean for the future? What the heck is this chick going to do with her life?

Right now I am lining everything up to finish my graduate degree in PR & New Media at Baylor by December of this year. No more resting on my track laurels to pay for school; I won’t be on athletic scholarship next year (no more eligibility, woohoo). However, my department at the Baylor Graduate School is very generous with scholarships and will probably enable me to finish without going into debt. I have faith that if it’s where God wants me to be, finances can work themselves out. If not I can just quit school; I already got one degree.

Not ready to leave this place quite yet. Baylor is phenomenal.

After December, I want to pursue professional running as well as my non-running professional career (a real-world job in PR/ marketing in the running industry) in some capacity. I’m not sure what this is going to look like.

Dream world would be that I’d get back into running this summer, train in Waco this fall, and set up my future so I could pursue 75% running and 25% non-running. I would like to do 100% running, except 1. pro runners don’t make that much money and I’m not even close to that level yet and 2. The running component in this situation would be me being on some post-collegiate team/club, and doing part-time PR for whatever club I join. If I was injured, I could amp up the time spent working for them and they wouldn’t jettison me for not producing results because I would be valuable in non-running ways. That’s my outside assessment, ha, but I still have a lot to learn about the post-collegiate world.

So, if I didn’t get an opportunity to be on post-collegiate team, like if I was mysteriously injured for the next year (which is how it feels right now), the balance of running/work would probably be flipped. I’d get a job like a person who has come to terms with the limits of their physical potential, and pursue running on my own. Run for fun. Maybe compete if I could get it together, train for a marathon, triathlon, ultras, crossfit, whatever.

Sure cross fitters seem crazed…

… But can’t you picture a runner saying this?

No matter the pursuit, I think I just want a niche again. This part is hard to plan because it is unpredictable. I haven’t run for FIVE MONTHS, people, who knows what life is capable of throwing at me!

My little brother keeps telling me it’s ok to hang up the spikes for good, but there are just too many success stories in this sport for me to want to quit. Whatever, he doesn’t know what it’s like. And it’s not like I’m putting myself through torture or missing out on the rest of life to keep trying to pursue running. Well, I mean, heel pain for three months straight/being in a boot for two months was unpleasant, but it wasn’t forever. Grad school at Baylor is a great place to be. Next year, if I don’t go “pro,” worst case I’ll be working a job.

I have not begun to formally contact coaches or apply for jobs. There’s a lot going on here just keeping my head above water with schoolwork and my job at the running store. I can work on this in the summer and fall. I’m at the point in my job search right now where I have these unspecific fantasies about living somewhere uber-outdoorsy like Colorado or California, but we’ll see how I actually feel about leaving home in Texas when it comes decision-time.

Point is, I don’t have to put all my eggs in one basket of running, because I picked a career that doesn’t require full-time dedication (unlike someone who wants to go to med school and can’t do that + run at the same time). Besides, every professional athlete needs an outlet besides sports to keep them from going crazy by focusing only on the sport.

Recap: I still want to run. Scheming and dreaming as to how exactly to do that. Not sure why I bother planning; stuff always turns out differently. And from what I hear, this feeling of uncertainty, possibility and so much opportunity it’s crushing you are all part of being in your 20s! Growing up, y’all.

One great thing I have learned (more to come for sure) is that even without running, I still wake up and find out that the world is still spinning, people still love me, and I can still make a difference.

from my last summer job at Team Prep USA. One foot in front of the other…

The part when it got bad

Since I was 7 years old, I have been a runner. I was a 5k fun runner with my mom, I was a basketball player who ran on the side, I was a costumed Cap 10k runner, I was a high school trackster traveling to meets with my parents, and I was a member of a collegiate track program. Even with injuries or high school summer vacations, I never took more than a couple months off. But now I’ve been off for five months, an amusing yet staggering figure to me.

Naturally, I’ve had a lot of time for reflection about my sport and what it means to me. I miss running. The last five months have, mentally, been the worst of my life. Running was a consistent thread in my life, and without it I’ve found it very difficult to focus on managing my time, feeling motivated about anything, and feeling like I’m accomplishing anything useful in school, work or relationships. When I stopped running in November, I felt a lack of motivation for the rest of life, and that quickly manifested itself in a lack of accomplishment. Everything, at least in my small-minded view, started to fall out of order.

With school, I stopped doing reading for classes. It wasn’t a conscious decision, I just didn’t make it happen and did other stuff like spend an entire morning making marshmallows from scratch instead. I sat through classes bored and uninvolved. At night, I’d surf the internet until 3 or 4 am. Several times when I had a big assignment due the next day, I’d procrastinate literally all night on my computer until 7 a.m. because I couldn’t make myself start the assignment. I NEVER did this in undergrad; if you had a tempo to run at 6:30 a.m. somehow you could find a way to get school done. I wasn’t perfect then, but I was not disordered to that level. It was scary.

With working out and overall health, cycling was a decent outlet for a while, but it just didn’t provide the same validation or compulsion that running did. I did alright in the first couple months with near-daily cross training, getting more involved in the Baylor Cycling Club (mountain biking! *fist pump*), but in December I started to slip. My doctor directed me to sit out the bike as a new tactic for speeding up healing on my stress fracture, and swimming just didn’t have the same draw for me to work out. Not to mention, all my night owl antics didn’t leave me feeling fresh and ready to work out very often. There were a couple three-week spans where I didn’t work out AT ALL. Not having to eat to perform (no track practice this afternoon = chocolate chips for breakfast no prob), plus late-night binges and the lack of working out caused me to gain weight, which was another stressor. My self-damning logic here was even if I did get my foot healthy, I’d be too heavy to run fast.

My relationship with God was up and down. I know God is the only true constant in my life on earth, and sometimes that motivated me, but other times I got down about religion or how bad of a Christian I was being. I knew I still had it pretty good compared to the rest of the world, but that made me feel worse for being ungrateful. A cynical part of me says, “you are just experiencing moods,” or “you are overspiritualizing,this” but I know that God is real because I’ve felt his work in my life in the past, and I’ve seen it in the lives of others. Now, I could say a lot of cheesy things about journey/destination or spout out some “Peaceful Warrior” quote, but you’ve heard it all before (because it’s true).

I used to wonder how runners would get so discouraged during injuries. Why would so many wimp out and quit? Well, it’s pretty tough not knowing, facing disappointment and disappointing yourself. You guys … now I know.

This is the rock bottom truth, and I didn’t want to hide it or say I was always positive or did the right things during my injury. I let negative cycles and downward spirals embed themselves into my psyche. So, life felt messed up; I was messed up without running.

I wrote this whole entry in past tense because I wanted to indicate, “that was then, this is now,” and it’s just too freaking scary to think I’m still in this hole. But it’s not really over. I still can’t run, and I’m still learning to deal with finding motivation and validation from other places.
All I can say is that some days I wake up with an epic kind of realization, like the feeling you get when you listen to Explosions in the Sky. I haven’t been thinking of anything, drawing out some reasoned path for why I know what I know; I’ve been asleep. But I wake up knowing absolutely, innately that this is a beautiful adventure God’s laid out for me.

I used to run track at Baylor

It happened.

Last Saturday, I told someone, a customer at  the running store where I work, “I was on the track team at Baylor.” Past tense.

I guess I got tired of the predictable, ensuing conversation that kept happening.

Me: I’m on the track team (present tense).

Other person: Oh cool! How’s training? / Got any meets coming up?

Me: Well, uh, you see, even though I’m walking around like a normal person with no visible physical disabilities, I’m injured and not competing, not traveling nor capable of even practicing.

Them: Ooh, I’m sorry. That’s gotta suck.

Me:  (putting on a smile) It’s ok, I like riding my bike! Wanna see my cool scar from mountain biking?

Or, if I was feeling particularly faithful that day: It’s ok, I know it’s part of God’s plan.

But if strangers from the running store can know the truth, I guess the rest of the world can know it too. I’m not running track anymore for Baylor. I got the stress fracture in my heel in October and since then my foot just hasn’t gotten well enough to run. At all. My doctor told me to expect to be completely pain free in walking before attempting to run again, and it took until March to get to that point. I tried the elliptical (the prereq to running, as directed by my athletic trainer) after that, in early March, and that produced a little pain. It wasn’t like, abject heel pain, but it was noticeably worse than before. By then my chances of coming back to be anywhere remotely in shape to race by May (the latest possible time in the collegiate season) seemed shot, and if I couldn’t even elliptical, no way could I run.

Even writing this I think, “Oh, why limit yourself, maybe you could get in shape by then” but runner’s delusions have to end at some point. I’ve spent this whole year in mental running purgatory of tentative preparation for a track season that may or may not happen. During spring break a couple weeks ago, I admitted to some friends for the first time that I wouldn’t compete this season. It seemed dirty, like giving up. But then I told that customer at the store, and realized I was ready to tell the world. While I’m grieving the loss of my last collegiate season, I am grateful at least to finally know, it is gone. It’s not going to happen. I won’t run any more meets in a Baylor jersey.

I used to run track at Baylor.

Take all the credit you deserve

Humans are funny. We attribute our successes to our own awesomeness rather than other people or good luck or favorable circumstances. Example: last night I was looking at Facebook pictures from my junior year of college. I had redshirted that track season and ran a PR of 16:39 at our home meet’s 5K. Yeah, Cate ran a 16:39, pretty good time, huh?

(L-R) Me, SP, Robyn

But I’d pretty much forgot that I had two teammates, Sam and Robyn, pace me for half the race! Two years later, I have a fresh understanding of what it meant for them to run that race with me. In 2011, in my mind, I was strong. I could run 16:39 anywhere, Sam and Robyn just happened to be around that day. But now looking back I know there’s no way I could have run that time without them.

It was just one more thing they did as great teammates. Sure, tempo-ing a 3k probably fit into their training/racing schedule at the time, but they didn’t have to run with me. They did it selflessly, and loyally.

They were probably the two gals I ran the most miles with throughout my time at Baylor, offering physical support and emotional support – advising me when to get serious and when to relax, listening to me rant and rave about everything under the sun, waiting for me at bathroom stops, sharing about their lives and feelings with me to fill the space and grow closer mile after mile.

Both Sam and Robyn are done with Baylor now, onto bigger and better things, and not many days go by without me missing them. Fortunately they are both great at taking initiative to stay in touch – SP is a modern-day pen pal and Robyn is a super Skype user.

So go ahead, take all the credit you deserve for your own accomplishments – I don’t deserve a lot. I could write a post like this for nearly every one of my teammates, too. Yes I’m getting nostalgic before I’ve even left Baylor. But y’all rock.

NCAA Championships, Terre Haute, IN 2010

Viva La Bicicleta

Bike commuting has been an unexpected pleasure of my college experience. I brought a bike with me my freshman year, with a faint idea that I might enjoy riding it as much as I did when I was 10. Over the last four and a half years, riding my bike to school, work and practice has been a near-daily joy for me. It’s not only the fastest way to get to school, it’s also good for me, it’s fun, it’s a cool bonding time to commute with other people, and it’s good for the environment.

Yes, I am preaching here, but I believe every single person at Baylor who drives their car to school is wasting their time. Ok, back up, if you live more than five miles away, or if you have to be somewhere immediately before/after class, or if it’s raining a ton, you might not be wasting your time. But the rest of you … why do you all complain about the lack of parking on campus?! Easy solution.

Baylor added new bike lanes in 2012 on Dutton and 3rd St. crossing through campus. Increased visibility = safer riding for cars and cyclists. Thanks Baylor!

I’ve invested a little to make biking more pleasant. For the first three years of college, I rode my sister’s old bike from when we were preteens.

Old bike. This one sucked, and when I rode it, I didn’t love commuting. It was too slow and heavy … and unstylish.

It took buying a real road bike for me to realize what lower plane of bike life I’d been existing on for years. I swapped the old bike for a zippier hybrid with a flat handlebar and skinny tires. It’s not road-bike fast, but it’s got good geometry for me, with a balance of visibility and speed. This was well worth the $375 I paid that dude on Craigslist, and I’ve never had to get work done on it after I learned to change my own flats.

Trek FX 7.2

Another thing that makes my commute more fun is music. I use one headphone only so I can hear the cars behind me. Explosions in the Sky is an especially epic life soundtrack. If I’m caught on campus after dark or I’m closing at the store, I wear some LED clip-on lights for better visibility to drivers. Getting some racks or panniers might be nice, but I usually just load up my backpack for the day – changes of clothes, food, textbooks – really carefully and carry my stuff on me own back.

Portaging new bike tires home from the bike shop. So meta.

A few days ago, it hit me: I’ve achieved bike commuting nirvana. This is the best part of my life right now, I thought, because despite stress fractures and loads of grad reading and disappointing people, nothing can go wrong here. I had been rushing to leave my apartment to get to school on time, but as soon as I mounted my bike, I knew it would be alright. I was soaking up the sun’s early morning rays. Wind was blowing in my hair – it never gets old. The stresses of lateness and the day ahead of me faded with each pedal stroke. On my bike, I feel in control and happy, in touch with the world but not controlled by it. Walking limits me by speed and occasionally my still-sore heel. Driving limits me to set routes and awful parking, and detachment with the world. But biking is just right. I’m tall, I’m fast, I’m making the most of life.

Running is my first love, and I never want to lose that competitive spirit. This has not replaced running in my life, because this kind of biking is not about exercising (even though that’s a benefit). It’s bigger than that. It’s a lifestyle, a life of connecting to the people and neighborhoods around you, a life of self-sufficiency, and a life of gratefulness to God for an amazing body that can power this two-wheeled machine. Life is best lived on the bike -