2020 Snowshoe National Championships: There's something in the story of defeat

Sometimes believing you belong, working hard and showing up is not enough.

It’s true. Sometimes even after countless hours of training, miles logged in the worst possible conditions, mindnumbing minutes on a treadmill, taking care of every little thing, you can still fall short of your goal. 

It happens all the time.

We saw it play out at the Olympic Trials just a few weeks ago: a stacked field of wildly capable and confident women, the best of the best in distance running in America all ready to fight for a spot on the Olympic Team.

And while the stories of the underdog, the discounted, the forgotten triumphing in the face of challenge inspires all of us, there’s also something in the story of defeat. 

And sometimes it’s the response to that defeat that is often more inspiring than the stories of success.

It’s in the falling short that your reasons for pursuit become distilled, clearer than ever: you figure out your why. 

At least that’s how I feel. 

At the 2020 Snowshoe National Championships in Leadville, Colorado I definitely fell short of my goal. After coming off a podium finish at the World Snowshoe Championships in Myoko, Japan I wanted a similar finish at Nationals: a podium spot or top five were my goals.

Spoiler alert: that didn’t happen. I finished 7th quite a ways off the podium and not in the top five. 

Yet, I’ve never felt more satisfied with a race effort before or more clear on why I keep believing in myself, working hard and showing up. 

It’s no secret that racing at 10,000 feet is difficult. That was a given, it was a matter of racing smart and managing effort, and in that regard, I feel like I did my best. 

I went into the race in control of everything I could possibly control: I was well hydrated, rested, loose and ready. 

Lap 1

When the gun went off I started the race conservatively. In typical fashion, the race started fast, but with a wide groomed course and no single track till nearly a mile in, I knew there would be ample space to pass. Out of the gate, I was maybe 15th or 16th, there were a good number of women in front of me. I keep my effort reeled in, comfortable, relaxed. 

The course turned downhill slightly for the first ¾ of a mile before making a sharp, steep turn up hill. It was here that I held back, there would be plenty of climbing to go, plenty of time to push in the second lap. I had already eased past several women and was somewhere around 10th. 

We passed through the start/finish area and exited into the woods where the course began to climb. Keep it easy, Sarah, was my refrain. More women drifted back while I stayed steady I moved up a few more spots. We climbed through the woods steadily and then on the rolling downhill back towards the start of the second loop I moved into 6th place with 5th not that far ahead.

Lap 2

A steep uphill climb brought us back out into the finish area and I started my second loop, gassed and gasping for breath after the short climb, I looked forward to the downhill portion. The fifth woman was still within striking distance if I stayed steady and she faded I could catch her. 

I wound my way through the first part of the second lap, back to the sharp turn and the steep uphill. I pushed here, glancing back to see two women maybe 45-60 seconds back. Now you push, Sarah. Grit, guts, determination. I dug in and charged up the hill, my breathing was labored and quick, my body felt slow and sluggish. The hills are where I felt the altitude, so much effort with so little forward progress. I made my way through the single track portion and back out onto the field to cross once again through the start/finish area, before heading back into the woods for the final loop of the second lap. I could hear the cheering of my dear friends following me. 

Having my friends and their kids at the race was a game changer, I felt like I was home.

The climb felt tough, 5th was pulling away from me further into the woods. I could feel my energy flagging. I just had to get up this steady climb and I knew I could rock the rolling terrain back into the finish. Just keep going. 

Thwap. Thwap. Thwap. There was someone behind me coming strong from the sound of their snowshoes on the snow. Don’t concede, Sarah. Hold them off. I asked my body to give more, but there wasn’t any more to give. I was maxed out. I couldn’t breath harder. I couldn’t run faster, there was no well to dig into, I was already in the well. 

She churned past me but didn’t pull away that far ahead. She was still within striking distance. I chased her through the rolling hills, letting it fly on the downhills and trying hard to push the uphills. She was only 20 seconds ahead at most. Get it back, Sarah. I tried every mental trick in the book, but the distance wouldn’t close. 

I watched her pull away, plunge down the final drop before the uphill climb to the finish. I followed, flying down the steep incline and doing my best to use the momentum to carry me up the other side.

I churned up the hill, knowing I was almost done. Cresting the hill I made one last push into the finish chute, across the line and came to an abrupt stop gasping for air.

Gasping for breath after racing at 10K feet.

So how does falling short distill my reasons for running?

It really isn’t about the goal or the desired outcome, it never has been. They are tangible milestones to reach for, they are the thing that makes you step outside of where you are, which makes you reach for something beyond your current ability. Like Deena Kastor says, “A goal is just an awesome way to force growth upon yourself.” It’s not about the goal, it’s about the growth. 

And so I’ll keep believing I belong in places I’ve never been. I’ll keep working hard. I’ll keep showing up. Why? Because of the person I will become in the process.  

It’s not really about the goal, it’s about who we become in the process.

-Sarah