Let me start by saying this: I did not train for this 10K. Not even a little bit. Not a jog, not a trot, not a single jogged thought. But somehow, I ended up lacing up my shoes and running my first-ever 10K race in Spain, at night, by the beach, like I had any business being there.
The race was called Nocturno, and it happened in Playa de Gandia, which sounds like something magical, and honestly, it kind of was. I signed up about 3–4 weeks before the race because my friend casually suggested it, and I said yes like we were agreeing to get a glass of wine. You know, just for fun, except this glass of wine turned into 6.2 miles.
Here’s the thing: I’ve never ran in Spain. Like, ever. My cardio in this country has mostly been power walking to the grocery store before siesta starts. But I kept telling myself this was mostly mental anyway. I mean, sure, my body wasn’t trained, but my mind? My mind had TED Talks and delusion on its side.
The day of the race, I technically trained. By that, I mean I carb-loaded like a champ. I had pasta. I drank my healthy energy drinks. I put on my best “I’m about to be an athlete” playlist. Mentally, I was in the Olympics. Physically, I was… just showing up.
When the race started, the vibes were immaculate. Everyone was excited, the sun was setting, and we were running along the beach at night. It was romantic if you ignored the burning in your calves.
By the halfway point, I wasn’t running so much as I was mentally negotiating with myself.
“Just make it to that next palm tree.”
“Okay, now jog until the old man with the tiny dog.”
“Alright, Lofton, you didn’t come this far to quit.”
And somehow, somehow, I finished. At the very last possible moment. I’m talking 1:20:13, the cutoff was 1:20:00. The race officials were probably packing up the finish line when I came through, like, “Wait! Me too!”
But you know what? I’ve never felt more proud of myself. This was something I’d never even considered signing up for back in the States. Not because I couldn’t, but because I never thought to. But here in Spain, living this new version of my life, I’m saying yes to experiences I never thought were “for me.” And that’s something training can’t prepare you for.
So no, I don’t recommend not training for a 10K. Please don’t take this as a motivational fitness blog. This is a “Wow, I did something cool and borderline reckless, and it worked out” blog. But it’s proof that so much of what we think we can’t do is just mental.
If you want to do something wild, something new, something that makes you think, “Who even am I right now?”, do it.
Even if you’re not ready.
Even if you finish 13 seconds past the deadline.
Even if the only thing you’ve been training is your imagination.
Because sometimes all it takes is a little pasta, a delusional amount of confidence, and a friend who believes in you before you believe in yourself.
Here’s to the next finish line.
Love always,
American Girl Meets World
