It wasn’t my best run. I know that I have run better, and I know that I could have been more prepared. But the point of getting out there and running the race, regardless of what was going on in my world, was to show that I had control over something…even if it was a race that I didn’t feel prepared for.
I didn’t have a costume, my Runmeter died after the first mile, it was hot as balls out, and I was not prepared. I was slow and hurting, I was breathing hard and drinking lots of water, I was bound and determined to make it over that bridge. I was miserable and wonderful all at the same time. It was one of the best and one of the worst runs of my life.
And that, my friends, is what running is all about.
Race Day started off easily enough. Marisa and I rode in one car down to the race, and Heather rode in a different one since she was planning on leaving early. We got parked, we had an impromptu dance party, we got ready to run, we wandered around. I got some photos for work and then we all met at the Jaguar for the group photo with the Channel 4 gang. Then we headed out to get ready. Final potty break, grabbed our gear from the car, and walked to where the corrals were. I was having some issues dealing with some negative people and negative vibes, so I was eager to put some space between me and them. I had my own race to gear up for and wasn’t about to let their self loathing stir up some drama for me.
I was in the third wave, and our gun went off at 8:12. I started toward the back so I could take it easy and enjoy the run. It was fun to run with a lot of people who wore the brightly colored shirts and seemed to be genuinely having a good time. One guy ran by me with a GoPro on his cap, and when he slowed to look at me directly I smiled and waved at him.
We did our running and my Runmeter told me I was starting out way too fast. Not a smart thing to do when it was so humid, but I felt good so I kept it up.
When we got to the Main Street Bridge, my foot started to hurt. I slowed to walk up the bridge because anyone who has had PF (plantar fasciitis) will tell you that going up hill is bad. My left foot felt swollen and my calf hurt so at the next chance I got I slipped the compression sleeve OFF my left leg and wore it as an anklet, and some of the pressure lifted. Then I went about my race.
Everything was going well until just after mile 6. I had noticed that I was feeling really warm and I don’t do well in the heat so I slowed my pace.
I hit every water stop and splashed water on my head and on my face to cool me down. But just then, suddenly I felt really sick to my stomach. Just past mile 6.5 I had to pull off to the side and throw up. A couple of kids were handing out ice cubes so I snagged a bunch of them and put them down my sports bra to cool my body down, and I swished my mouth out with water from a bottle someone at an area house brought me.
“I’m so sorry,” I moaned as I tried to get control of myself. The lady smiled and shook her head.
“I have sons, dear. I completely understand,” she said. She handed me another handful of ice cubes and I went on my way.
I took it easy the rest of the race. I felt my heart racing, I felt my breathing become erratic, and I felt hot. I felt so hot. When we got to the Hart Bridge, I walked up it. I wanted to run, but I just didn’t have it in me.
I crossed the finish line, tried not to pass out, got my water and my medal after chatting with a pink haired diva at the medical tent, and found Marisa.
Who proceeded to cover me with ice and ice cold water. Within moments, I felt better. Dude. it was so hot.
We hung out for a little bit after the race and then headed home to shower and relax. We were both not really feeling things and I was still having issues with walking. Which sucked. And I was still nauseous. Which sucked more.
But I finished, which is exactly what I wanted to do. I almost cried three times while running because I felt such a great stress release. I smiled and laughed and finished feeling exhausted and hot and completely spent. It was awful and glorious and only a runner will get it.
On Monday, I went to the doctor to find out what was wrong with my foot, and I learned that I have a monster heel spur. And tendinitis. And I have to use crutches. For three weeks. No me gusta.
So it’s upper body training thanks to crutches and a new training regime when I can work out again. For now, let’s get our eating under control.