Crossing the Line

My First Race of the Year

“Adding new hardware to my medal hanger in January serves as a reminder of all I can accomplish in the year ahead.”

There is something exciting about running in January. It may be the feeling of comradery among an expanded communit y of r unners fulfilling their New Year’s resolutions, or simply the prospect of what a new year could bring, but there is nothing quite like pounding the pavement on a cold, calm January day.

First off, if the weather cooperates, there is the potential to snap a snowy-beard selfie for social media (I have yet to pull this off but really think that this could be my year).

Then, there are the times harsher weather requires us to retreat to a treadmill. January can be unpredictable as far as the weather goes, and I enjoy the uncertainty that it brings. Although treadmill running isn’t always exhilarating, I find it comforting during a winter storm. With others in earshot, I may need to be more careful not to sing along too loud to some of the motivational tracks on my playlist – some of the music that pumps me up does not contain the most familyfriendly of lyrics – but that’s a small price to pay when I can’t run outside. It’s kind of like watching the Toronto Blue Jays play under the roof of the Rogers Centre when it’s raining – there would be no ballgame otherwise.

I cross-train and run in January to prepare for my first race of the year. Unlike every other time of year, that first race doesn’t feel like the end of something but rather the beginning.

It started for me four years ago when my wife and I took part in the big annual January race in Florida. This was the earliest that I had ever raced to start a season – and it forever changed by approach and perspective. I’m always excited about crossing a finish line, and I’m unable to resist a little swagger in my step when I leave a finishing corral with a new medal around my neck. But in Florida that January, the feeling was different than in other races. The feat felt symbolic, a tone setter.

Adding new hardware to my medal hanger in January serves as a reminder of all I can accomplish in the year ahead. Whenever my self-confidence wanes, all I have to do is consider the triumph of that January race and remember what I am capable of. I bask in the glow of the achievement whenever I see fit, to lift my spirits. No one can take away what I accomplished!

There are many options for races early in the year, from virtual runs that you can do whenever and wherever they work best for you and receive your medal in the mail, to actual runs that take place as early as New Year’s Day. The important aspect for me is seizing the opportunity to overcome any indiscretions surrounding the stress and temptations of treats presented during the holidays, to break through hesitations and start each new year on the right foot.

The legacy of that first race extends all year for me. In fact, it is when our running community again dwindles as people abandon their New Year’s resolutions and lineups at g yms return to their usual size that I most appreciate t he promise of t hat f irst race each year. It keeps me going and encourages me to find new challenges as the year progresses. The achievement inspires me to keep going. I did it and I can do it again, or I can do even more.

Each year, my approach is a little bit different. Depending on where I find myself in terms of race opportunities and mentally, my first race of the year can represent an attempt at a new personal best, a chance to establish a benchmark for the year to come or the chance to get back at it, offering an annual personal check-in and kick I need to get going. In the grand scheme of things, it is just one race but it means so much more to me than that.

I invite you to consider your first race of the year similarly – not as the conclusion of all your hard work, but the start of all you can accomplish in the year ahead. It does not have to end at the finish line.