To the best of my memory, I have never worn glitter.

I’m not super sparkly; I’m not usually a hype squad; I don’t exude a massive amount of feminine energy. I’m also not super competitive and don’t need a reminder to myself that XYZ (in this case, running) is supposed to be fun. For silly reasons, I have never felt like glitter fits my personality or that I’m somehow worthy of it.

Jessie Diggins, renowned American XC skier with ties to both Vermont and Minnesota (where I went to law school) and whom I dragged my kid through a snowstorm to see ski, is known for the glitter that she slathers on her face.

In a 2016 blog post titled For the Love of Glitter, written before she would go on to become the most decorated American XC skier (and eventual ultramarathon champion), she wrote: “The glitter on my cheeks during a race started as a reminder to myself that I race because it’s fun, and I love to ski. . . . Putting on glitter before my race is a salute to the little girl who just wants to ‘go super speed!!!’[] It’s a promise to myself that I will race my absolute hardest that day.”

So when I was asked by one of our wonderful pacers for the M&T Bank Vermont City Marathon if I would be interested in jumping in to pace a half marathon at Central Vermont Runners’ Leaf Peepers, I (almost) immediately said yes even though I had zero experience pacing to a particular time and then promptly bought glitter freckle tattoos to go with my actual freckles and embody the persona that I was going to channel as a pacer.

Glitter Freckles

I was going to be fun. I was going to be confident. I was going to hype. I was going to sparkle. And I think I did all those things AND covered the distance in 2:14:29.

As a pacer, I was trying to generally run even splits (all miles at the same pace), get to the two miles with the most climbing with about a 60-second buffer, finish in a time that was 2:14:XX, and take the mental strain off of people that were trying to run under 2:15.

As someone new to pacing and often a planner, I came up with multiple strategies.

I practiced running exactly 10:15s on a flat route and then a hilly route. I made my own planned pace chart, which I printed, laminated, and taped to my official pace sign. I plastered my arm with one of the M&T Bank Vermont City Marathon pace tattoos (cut in half).

Pace Sign, Pace Chart, Pacer Medal

Come race day, I chatted with the people lining up around me, started my Garmin exactly as I passed the start line (after counting in my head to figure out the differential between gun time and net time), and then proceeded to stare at said Garmin every 2.7 seconds for the next 2+ hours. I’d look at my current mile pace. I’d look at my overall pace. I’d compare them to my pace chart. I would note the actual mile pace when my Garmin auto lapped. I’d note the total elapsed time when I passed each mile marker. I’d compare that to my pace tattoo. I’d announce our buffer to the group. I’d cheer on everyone coming in the opposite direction. And then I would repeat each mile for 13 miles. And I did it with confidence, a non-obnoxious amount of hype, and a bit of fun. And when I crossed that finish line, I had the best “Runner’s High.” Who knew the endorphin rush that would come from successfully doing math on the run?

Early Miles and Pacer Smiles

After the race, I connected with a few people who had been with me for some of the miles (and ate a bowl of excellent chili), then headed into the rest of my day with my family. We had a “pretty nice little Saturday” (except it was Sunday), including a trip to Costco. By then, I had thoroughly forgotten I was still channeling my shiny alter ego, so it was fun when some of the cashiers complimented me on my sparkle. Maybe we all could use reminders that life should be fun, we deserve the hype, and we are worthy of that confidence.