Last weekend should have marked team Chafing Like a Flockstar‘s triumphant-ish return to Seneca 7. The fates made other plans.
The race itself hasn’t been held for two years. There is no way to socially distance a hundred teams of seven runners who spend a day running 77.7 miles around Seneca Lake. There just isn’t enough hand sanitizer on this earth to make it feasible, to say nothing of the lack of PPE made from wicking fabric.
Our Team in 2019
But 2022 was going to be our year. We’d made do in 2020, mind, but this year would be a celebration. We had our tutus at the ready and were sorta trained. Lisa’s cowbell arm was strong. Team Flockstar was back in business. Until it very much wasn’t.
The bad news started a week out. Heather gave us a head’s up that she wasn’t feeling great. While it wasn’t COVID, it was something that made her not want to run. No problem, I thought. I can come up with a fill-in. At any given time, I know at least one regional runner who can pinch-hit. I started to put out feelers.
On the Monday before race weekend, two more Flockstars were on the DL. It was COVID this time. Just when I started to wrap my head around finding two more replacements, Central New York, which is where I live, was hit with a doozy of a spring snowstorm. Eight inches of the wet, heavy stuff fell on us. When I woke up on Tuesday ready to make calls, we had no power and no idea when we’d have it back.
While we were luckier than most (it took a six days to get the lights back on in some spots), living in a pre-electrified and increasingly cold world sucked away all of my moxie. My can-do spirit was replaced by a this-is-too-hard gloom. Finding one new runner was do-able. Three was impossible. When the lights came back on, the choice was clear. Our team would be a DNS.
The only box we checked in 2022 was a DNS
There’s no shame in a DNS but there is a lot of sadness. For me, that sadness felt much larger than one missed race. Newsflash: the last two years have been hard, y’all. Our collective re-entry into being around each other again has been harder still. You still never know when the rug will be pulled out from under you so you just stop looking forward to stuff you enjoy.
I’ve been lucky in 2022. I made it to Hilton Head and had a rematch with the beach. I ran down Nevada’s Mt. Charleston in April. Two of my three Spring trips came off without any pandemic-related hitches. In hindsight, it was foolish to think I could complete the trifecta. But I dared to dream.
While I’m not Jewish, I’ve been to more than a few seders. Two things I’ve learned are 1) always eat first because four glasses of wine on an empty stomach is a bad idea and 2) “Dayenu” both an earworm and a life lesson. Just getting to enjoy one race this year would have been enough. Two is a miracle. Content yourself with that. Don’t dwell on what didn’t happen. After all, you are not trying to survive for 40 years in a desert.
And yet.
I wanted nothing more than to do something totally unnecessary with six other women who feel like my sisters. I yearned for a trip to Wegmans for subs and sushi. I wanted to laugh and laugh and laugh. On paper, this loss is a minor one. In reality, it is enormous.
I even miss Eau de Van.
Three years ago, I would have been bummed for a few days and moved on. Right now, my well of resilience has run dry. It’s not just this, mind. All of the pivots and accommodations and postponements add up, like death by a thousand Zooms.
If you haven’t already had someone tell you: it’s okay to not be okay. Let me also admit that I am not okay right now. My reactions to any change of plans have become operatic in scope, what with the crying and the wailing. This isn’t my usual behavior. My keel tends to be pretty even, which is why I made an appointment with my neighborhood mental health profession — and you should, too, if you’re feeling a little bit fragile.
As for Team Flockstar, we’re plotting trips to the Maine mountains in July and a run in Connecticut in September. Will they actually happen? I hope so. But need to be better able to handle if they do not.
This line just sums up life right now: “You still never know when the rug will be pulled out from under you so you just stop looking forward to stuff you enjoy.” I’m so sorry that Adrienne is not going to get to do this race—the past couple of years have been, and continue to be, brutal. Hard to be an optimist during times like these.
I was AT Hilton Head and still didn’t believe it. The past past two years have crushed me, I try not to look forward to anything.
I don’t think any of us needs to be better at handling all this. It’s a complete cluster and there’s not a way to be prepared for that.
On a brighter note, where in CT is the race/event?
Yesterday I got a lengthy voicemail from my insurance company letting me know they are here to help. How did they know? Hmm, maybe I’m not alone.
I’m with you! I’m tired of saying “there will be other (fill in the blank).” Sometimes there just won’t be. Sending you a warm hug (even though I know you don’t like them) and hoping that I see you in July when you are/may be/might be in my neck of the woods.
Thanks for always being real and honest. This loss is big. And grief is the right response. Here’s to working through the grief by granting yourself grace. And thanks for reminding us we can do the same. Also…when your spirits are a bit higher you might consider wearing that tutu to Wegman’s while you eat sushi. Bonus points if you can embarrass some teenagers in the process! ❤️
I’m truly sorry you and your team were not able to compete, Adrienne. This was my first Seneca 7 and it was crazy fun and such good therapy to run and hang with 6 like-minded women. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was for that! Our problem, though, was the opposite of yours. Turns out that a hot, crowded mini-van is an excellent Covid incubator.
I’m confident that we both have multiple, Covid-free Seneca 7’s in our future. See you out there!
Adrienne! Yes yes to all of this. All the accommodations and pivots and death by a thousand Zoom cuts and resilience well gone dry and operatic reactions. It’s all so tiringly tiring. Me too. This is all beautifully said. ❤️
Hi Adrienne. You certainly have every right to be disappointed. I hope your teammates are on the mend. Let the memories of Hilton Head brighten your day and ride on that for a while to work through the disappointment. I believe you will all be back in 2023!
This truly spoke to my heart and soul. Death by a 1000 zooms is all too true for many of us. I feel that many of us can handle disappointments that come flying at us if we’re starting from square one. After two + years of pandemic, we’re starting in a hole nowhere near square one so it feels like one more disappointment piled on top of all the others. Somehow we need to clear the slate but for me, that has been hard to accomplish. Here’s to better days ahead for all of us
I have a different “head” than most. Never really changed my routine and didn’t fall for the stuff they were feeding us (isolate, etc.) Kept my exercise routine, got our pool and gym open early on (May 2020) and got my uke group back together also for those who wanted (needed) other people. Make your own fun, and push on past this. For me it was “over” in April 2020. Helped to think that way as I traveled and did things as close to “normal” as I could. (p.s. that race could have happened both years without a problem in my opinion) IM AZ 70.3 happened in 2021 without a “hitch”- as well as hundreds of other races.
Empathy: the ability to understand and share the feelings of another.
Public Health is defined as “the art and science of preventing disease, prolonging life and promoting health through the organized efforts of society.”
Please note neither of these involves an individual in isolation.
Thank you A.M. for sharing your very intimate story. You are loved by many.
I would’ve never written it as eloquently, but this could’ve been written by me. That’s how closely it mirrors how I feel. Thanks for putting to words what I haven’t been able to.
Adrienne- I’m so sorry for your DNS & power outage. That’s a lot to deal with! You hang in there. Hugs from Nebraska.
Such a great post and for myself, quite timely. I decided to let a destination half go, between trying to run in what had been horrible spring weather and catching COVID, my training fell back to far to make the race realistic. I’ve been telling myself that my real goal was to start running outside earlier this year and I did that -I started in March and not June like last year. But when I’ve told family and friends I cancelled the trip their reactions just added to my disappointment. Instead of commiserating I was being told to run it anyway, despite me emphasizing the lack of training would more than likely cause an injury. It’s bad enough to go through this but to have non running family and friends not understand has been an added frustration.