She Power Race Recap
Let's Celebrate
There are moments worth pausing to honor, not because everything went perfectly, but because we showed up with intention, grace, and courage. This is one of those moments.
The She Power race wasn't just about miles, minutes, or medals. It was about listening, trusting, pacing, community, healing, encouragement, and the quiet power of continuing even when the path leading up to the starting line wasn't smooth.
And truthfully? The story began long before race morning.
Preparing for She Power: Honoring the Pause
The two weeks leading up to this race were anything but ideal.
Workouts were inconsistent.
Walks were off rhythm.
Runs felt forced, shortened, or skipped altogether.
Sinus pressure lingered, heavy in my head and body, reminding me daily that strength doesn't always show up as speed or stamina.
So instead of pushing through just to say I did, I paused.
I rested.
I listened.
I chose care over guilt.
Because sometimes the most disciplined thing we can do is stop long enough to heal mind, body, and spirit without attaching shame to the pause.
Powering through doesn't always look like grinding nonstop. Sometimes it looks like joy after a long workday. Laughter that shakes loose stress. Boundaries without apology. Trusting God with what we can't control. Showing up anyway: not perfect, not fully healed, but present and willing.
If you've had a disrupted rhythm, a rough season, or a body that needed grace instead of pressure, this run was for you too.
We were still strong.
We were still called.
And we honored the pause before the push.
The Night Before: Race Eve Rituals & Restless Energy
Saturday night, I fully expected to sleep straight through until my alarm. I had family visiting, playtime, and I was deeply tired. Surely rest would come easily.
Nope.
I lay down early and didn't drift off until after 11 p.m., knowing full well my alarm would ring around 5 a.m. I slept deeply until 2:30 a.m., then I was wide awake.
Not because I wasn't tired, but because this always happens before a race. That familiar feeling. Like the night before the first day of school. A new job. Stepping onto a stage. Wedding jitters.
I don't fully know how to name it, but I know this: I rarely get a full night's rest before a race.
So I stayed still.
I prayed.
I played Mahjong.
I checked in with family that was headed to the airport.
Eventually, I eased out of bed and began preparing:
- A leftover slice of pizza for fuel (because balance 😁)
- Post-race snacks
- My pre-race drink with vitamin B
- An early departure to pick up my race packet
The drive was peaceful. Almost too peaceful. My sinuses and post-nasal drip were still trying to make themselves known. I thought about pace. About last year. About this year.
And seriously, what is it about race day that makes you need to pee every ten minutes? I went to the restroom three times before the race even started.
I laced up my favorite racing shoes, my Sauconys (game changers, truly). And as I stood there, a familiar truth settled in:
I'm not here to compete against other women.
I am here to compete against myself.
Long Before the Starting Line: This Journey Didn't Start in 2025
Although I officially joined races last year, I've been walking and trotting my way through this wellness journey consistently for three to five years.
I've watched my waistline shrink.
I've released more than 45 pounds.
And I'm no longer pressed about the number on the scale.
Especially after learning what so many women experience during the change, or should I say, the changes.
Pre-pause was rough.
Perimenopause was worse.
Post-menopause? A beast compared to both, until I learned how to support my body, balance my hormones, and listen instead of punishing.
To the women reading this:
You are beautiful, no matter your size or shape.
To the men:
Please be kind to the women in your lives. These body shifts are real: brain fog, mood swings, restless nights, skin changes, hair thinning, cravings that make no sense, and that's not even the full list.
We judge ourselves enough already.
Support matters.
Sunrise Sisterhood: Women at the Corner
At 6:30 a.m., in the cool quiet before the sun rose, I met a small group of women on the corner. All of us were headed toward the same place, even if our journeys looked different.
One was a vendor who warmly invited me to find the compression booth after the race. Another was a runner. Then Jill, Valerie, Ruth (I think), and Samantha joined.
Strangers, and yet, not strangers at all.
We talked about life. About stress, hormonal shifts, injuries, aging, and bodies changing in ways no one fully prepares us for.
One woman shared she was grateful to meet me, and admitted she felt a little jealous that I could run, because a herniated disc meant she could only walk.
There was no comparison.
No pity.
Just mutual respect.
We laughed together in the cool morning air, swapping stories and encouragement, holding space for one another before the world fully woke up.
Women witnessing women.
That, too, was powering through.
The Race: Mile 4.65 & Gentle Push Forward
By the time I reached the starting area, nerves had arrived right on cue. Fingers still tingling. A low hum of anticipation running through my body.
Still, I reminded myself:
I wasn't racing against anyone else.
I was honoring my own body.
My own timeline.
My own becoming.
Around mile 4.65, (yes, I clocked it), my left shoulder began to ache. My right knee followed. My pace slowed.
Instead of panicking, I checked in gently (with myself of course):
"Come on, Stacie. Let's keep going. We got this."
I found rhythm alongside two other runners, and we encouraged one another quietly, steadily.
No rushing.
No forcing.
Just presence.
That invisible barrier I've written about before showed up again, not to stop me, but to be noticed, assessed, and moved through.
She didn't power through by ignoring her body.
She powered through by trusting it.
The Finish Line: Proof, Tears, and Chocolate Cake
When it was over—when I crossed that finish line, something beautiful happened.
A young woman I had checked on during the race found me. She told me that if it hadn't been for my encouragement, she wouldn't have finished. She introduced me to her family. We took pictures together.
And, I cried.
Because this race wasn't just about time.
Though yes, I finished 16 minutes and 13 seconds faster than this same race last year.
It was about proof:
- Proof that I am safe in my body
- Proof that I can pace myself and still finish strong
- Proof that power doesn't always look like pushing
- Proof that presence matters
Later, there was water. Oranges. And then, unexpectedly, the most amazing chocolate cake.
And listen...that cake was everything. Sometimes joy shows up exactly where you need it.
I also tried post-race leg and foot compression for the first time. At first it felt strange, but afterward? My legs felt grateful, supported, and cared for.
Another reminder:
Recovery is part of the work.
Familiar Rhythms & the Drive Home
This race was hosted by 131 Events, and I realized I've run most of my races with them since last year. There's something comforting about familiar organizers, familiar rhythms, and familiar excellence.
And then there was the drive home.
Salt stains streaked my face from sweat and tears.
My body was tired, but strong.
My spirit was overwhelmed in the best way.
I sat with the emotion instead of rushing past it.
Because again, this wasn't just a race.
It was community.
It was witnessing.
It was pacing.
It was encouragement given and received.
It was learning, again, that power doesn't always roar.
Sometimes, she laughs on a street corner at sunrise.
Sometimes, she walks when she can't run.
Sometimes, she pauses at mile 4.65 and keeps going anyway.
She powered through.
Not alone.
Not by force.
But together, with wisdom, grace, and heart.
2026 vs. 2025: The Numbers Tell the Story
When I finally sat down and looked at my Apple Watch data, I had one of those quiet, grounding realizations:
This wasn’t just “a little faster.”
This was real, measurable growth.
Overall Time
• 2025: 1:38:58
• 2026: 1:22:45
⏬16 minutes and 13 seconds faster on the same 10K course.
Not a shortcut.
Not perfect conditions.
Not a fluke.
Just a body that has learned how to show up differently.
Pace Breakdown: Mile by Mile
Mile 1
- 2025: 15:23
- 2026: 12:30
- ⏬2.53 faster
Cautious became confident.
Mile 2
- 2025: 14:58
- 2026: 13:02
- ⏬1.56 faster
Effort increased, but so did control.
Mile 3
- 2025: 16:11
- 2026: 13:11
- ⏬3:00 faster
Mile 4
- 2025: 16:11
- 2026: 13:49
- ⏬2:22 faster
Survival became rhythm.
Mile 5
- 2025: 15:18
- 2026: 13:28
- ⏬1:50 faster
Consistency replaced strain.
Mile 6
- 2025: 17:29
- 2026: 13:47
- ⏬ 3:42 faster
Where I slowed last year, I held strong this year.
Cadence & Effort: The Invisible Wins
- Average Cadence 2025: 136
- Average Cadence 2026: 154
That shift signals:
- Better running efficiency
- Less over-striding
- More sustainable mechanics
- Stronger pacing awareness
Last year: moderate effort.
This year: hard, but controlled.
Higher effort. Far better outcome.
The Takeaway
I didn't just run faster in 2026.
I removed the slow miles.
I trusted my body.
I stayed present when it got hard.
And that's what 16 minutes of progress really looks like.
She powered through.
Not by force.
But by faith, wisdom, and choice.
And yes, I would do it again.
Actually...I plan to do it again. 💛
With joy and gratitude,
Stacie J
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