From the moment I sent off my lottery entry for the Falmouth Road Race, I basically thought of nothing else. I mean, I didn’t sit by my computer, clicking the refresh button on my email like a lab rat trying to get a treat. I wanted to. Believe me, I wanted to. But this job and these kids and this life had demands on me, and I shoved the lottery as far back in my mind as I could.
It wasn’t very far.
In quiet moments, I would think about whether or not I’d get in… sometimes hoping against hope that I’d get picked and sometimes wondering what on Earth had compelled me to enter in the first place and praying they’d pass on me.
The closer it got, the more I panicked. What if I got in? That heat… all those people… THOSE HILLS.
So, by the time the 23rd rolled around, I had myself pretty worked up about the idea of getting in. I sent my friend Anne many texts about how scared I was, which she returned, because she’s good like that.
And then, I got a text from her. “Falmouth doesn’t want us.”
I checked my email. Nothing. We were registered as a team, so if she wasn’t in, I wasn’t in. But without an official “sorry, better luck next time” email, I couldn’t process it. What if it was a mistake? What if somehow they didn’t have us as a team and she didn’t get in and I did??
What if I had to run this alone? WHAT IF I HAD TO RUN THIS PERIOD?
I was beyond freaking out at this point. I am in no shape to be running that far, in that competitive a race, in the next 80 days. And the idea of getting in became more petrifying by the second.
And then I got the email.
And then I cried. Like, legit cried, right at my desk at work.
I’m still not sure if it was relief or disappointment that had me in tears. Probably some of both.
I didn’t realize until I truly wasn’t in, just how much I wanted to be. In the days between registration and rejection, I’d gotten attached to the idea of running this race. And suddenly, it was just… over.
I know it’s not personal. I know I wasn’t rejected based on my merits. I know so many other people got that email that day.
Still, it stung.
With some time to process, I’ve gotten okay with it. Because there are other races. Because I think it would have been a physical challenge beyond my capability right now. BECAUSE THOSE HILLS. DAMN.
And because there’s always next year. If I chose to enter, that is.
(I’m totally entering).
So, to my fellow Falmouth rejects, let’s hug it out. And to those that got in, go kick a little Cape Cod butt! I’ll be cheering you on. From my couch. Don’t hate.
So, lotteries. What do you think? And please feel free to give Bec your recs for a 10-15K type race sometime this fall, because she’s got a half to train for and if she thinks that Meri is going to let her rest on her…laurels… she’s got another thing coming.