What the hell am I talking about?
Oh that's right, I ran a half marathon on Sunday! Wowee. I seriously thought that my time on this planet was up. I sat inside my parents RV the night before eating a delicious bowtie pasta with vodka sauce and lemon soaked chicken with green beans and I thought, "this is my last meal." Why wouldn't something so delicious be considered the last good thing a person should eat? And so I got a little sad thinking about everything I've known and everything that has happened to me and I decided to go to bed around 8:30. I figured, why not have a good night sleep before you die as well?
Come race day, I'm up at 5:30 in the morning and we're driving to the event and it is DARK! and we're there (we're being my parents and I) and my parents drop me off to park while I walk around seeing all of these people just stretching or walking along laughing or jogging to warm up. And here was me, looking around feeling overwhelmed with Nike trackpants, an England pullover that I got from Walmart and my body armor shirt underneath. Attached to my feet are my 3 year old Addidas running shoes that are well worn and would not survive the end of this trip! I felt very out of place. All these people and yet I still felt like the lone stranger from out of town.
I will say the good thing about running is, no matter how nervous you feel, no matter how scared you are, you really can't screw it up. You don't have to worry about messing up your lines or forgetting what to say to a huge crowd or if your fly is zipped. You just start running. And that's exactly what happened with me. I just started running. And as lame as this sounds, once I started, everything else fell behind. My fears, my anxieties, my stress. I just ran and let everything else take control. And it felt really really good! I decided to pace myself fairly early. No flashy start or strong sprint in the beginning. I was going to take it slow and keep it slow during the whole thing. My initial strategy was the start slow and go for probably around 5 miles and then stop.
Let me interject something really quickly. Up until this event the farthest I had run was 5 miles and that was with a stop in there. The longest I had run was probably 3.2 miles which is right at a 5K standard. And we're back in.
So I was running and there was a crowd all around us cheering us on. And I could feel the adrenline surging through me and I just wanted to sprint with the vigor I had. But I kept it cool, keeping even pace with the person in front of me. This became a habit that I continued to follow throughout the race. Match speed with someone in front of you that is going the speed you'd like to go and just keep following them. Before I knew it, 1 mile had come up. Then 2 then 3 and before I knew it I was up to mile 5 without feeling tired! I was elated so I kept pushing myself. And I'm thinking, "okay, after 6 I might take a break" but I'm running and I am not seeing mile marker 6. And I'm worried that I'm getting slower and the run is getting longer and I'm getting more and more tired. THen, in the distance I see that beautiful green marker sign they've laid out for the runners. And I'm so excited that I have reached 6 miles without stopping! And we get up to it and it says mile 7!! And now, I'm like why not hit 8?! So I keep on running.
About this time my feet start to cramp up and my blister pain has finally caught up to me. So, after mile 8 I figure it might be time to slow down and consider walking a bit. So I slow down and when I do, every other pain in my legs, shoulders and shins catch up to me. My tiredness catches up to me. I drain fast! So I have to keep running to be ahead of all of this. I jog some more but it's too late. I feel the pain. So I grab some water, make a quick bathroom break and jog a little more. I get to mile 9 and I figure I should walk a little bit. Clear my soreness and then when I get to mile 10 I can finish strong! At that moment that I decide to take it slow and walk, this big fat boy runs by me. And he's not going very fast but he's moving and he's determined to finish this thing. That's when it hits me: I will not be beaten by a fat boy! So I have to start running again.
Throughout the rest of this journey I had to stop here and there because my side cramps create such a pain that I cannot ignore them, although everyone tells me to run through it, it's something that I've never been able to do. But in the end I get to the last .3 miles and I'm struggling with foot pains, blisters and side cramps I start getting cold. When I push myself to go faster I get even colder and I seriously thought I was going to go into shock. My body hadn't been pushed this far in such a long time I seriously was afraid I was going to pass out on the street! So I had to take it very slow just to make sure nothing would happen. And then I saw the finish line. And I was physically forcing myself to run the last .1 mile. If it was a cartoon, you would see a giant hand reaching down, grabbing my shirt, and dragging me to the end. But I ignored all pain in every place that was growing on my body and I pushed those last few steps and crossed that finish line! With a finishing time of 2:31:27. I was so very very excited!
I would like to say this was the most intense thing I've ever done in my life but surprisingly, it was really easy and while I still have a few injuries that I'm recovering from, I'm glad I did it and proud of myself. It was a really good experience and I'm seriously thinking about doing it again. Who'd thunk?
Oh, and I did beat that fat boy.
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