The Country Music ½ Marathon was the first half marathon I
completed two years ago. That was
a crazy day. My friend Emily
somehow managed to convince me that this was a good idea. We showed up at the starting line about
15 minutes before the starting gun.
Or so we thought. Turns
out, our corral is already starting.
The race director decided to start the race early due to bad storms are
tornados approaching Nashville. I
don’t remember much about that race… just a few highlights. A. Emily, speeding along and leaving me in her smoke somewhere
around mile, oh I don’t know…. 0.2 maybe?
J
B. It was crowded C. I learned the importance of runner’s lube and how
debilitating chaffing can be. One
thing I’ll never forget about that race was the intense mix of emotions I felt
when I crossed the finish line. At
first it was, “Wow, I can’t believe I did that.” Second, it was “Next time, I’m going to do better” From there I was hooked…. Addicted to
the quest of bigger and better. That shouldn't have been my day, but I made it my day.
Fast forward two years to April 28, 2012, the St. Jude Country Music Marathon. I thought the weekend started
well. My mom and I had a great
lunch at one of her favorite spots.
We went to the expo and got all my race gear and SWAG. We went to the mall and of course
everything in The Loft was 40% off so I stocked up on goodies there. And then we went home and my parents cooked one of
my favorite meals. It’s pretty
simple, just grilled chicken, sautéed squash and zucchini over angel hair
pasta. Would have been better with
a glass of wine, but oh well…. Maybe next time J
Saturday morning I woke up, got dressed, prepared my race
essentials and we were off to Centennial Park. While in the car I realize my iPod armband is dead. It’s got to be at least 3, if not 4, years old. So needless to say it’s
been through a lot with me. The Velcro is coming off and I’ve tried to re-glue
it over and over again. But today
it just wasn’t going to cut it. No
worries. I can put the ipod in my
shirt. Then I start to put my race
number on. Open the envelope I got
at the expo and only had two pins.
Great. This is going to be
awkward. The race bibs are already
over half the size of my torso and now I’m not going to have it secure on my
shirt. I put one on the top left
and one on the bottom right. I
wish I knew how to fold it up and make it a lot smaller but oh well…. Who has
time to think at that hour just minutes before the start??? So I battled it the whole time I ran... flopping around and being generally annoying.
I get in my corral and wait for the race to begin. This could have been my least favorite
part of the race. Your anxiety level
is high. The crowd’s intensity is
high. Everyone is excited to be
there. Snapping pictures. Sharing last minute words of
encouragement. Warming up. Stretching cold muscles (ps never a
good idea). Jumping up and down
like preschooler being bribed with animal crackers. Everyone except me.
I’m bored. I’m lonely. And I just don’t know why I’m
here.
The race starts and I’m just cruising through the
streets. It’s warm, but I’m
feeling good. I learned a lot
about running in the heat when I was in Gainesville in February. I knew to drink water before I was
thirsty. Had plenty of Gatorade to
replenish my electrolytes. And
took several packets of salt during the run. It sounds gross, but I had to eat plain packets of salt to
prevent dehydration.
The first few miles are exactly how I remembered them… same
course, same crowds as before. I
was excited to see my parents in front of their church shortly after mile 5.
When I saw them I was feeling good. My stride was perfect, comfortable speed, and feeling better than expected. Right on pace, feeling the heat but it wasn’t stopping me.
Pretty soon I saw more and more runners laying on the
sidewalks… medics tending to them.
I’m guessing they had severe cramps, dehydration, or some other heat
related infliction… then I start thinking what is worth pushing your body that
hard? Was I ready for that today? Or any day?
Today, I wasn’t prepared to push myself to that
extreme. I had nothing on the
line. Nothing that I was that
passionate about. That’s when I
got to thinking… I mean, seriously, now’s the perfect time to think,
considering I’ve got nothing else to do for the next three to four hours.
Around mile 10 I decided to slow my pace and start
walking. I would walk 2 minutes; run 8 minutes. I don’t know why I
picked this 8-2 plan. It probably
doesn’t have much scientific, physical, or physiological benefit to running,
but it’s easy math for me.
Pretty soon, around mile 11, the half marathoners split off
and went to their last leg of the race.
Lucky “Sons ovva bitches” I thought to myself. I powered up the hill, through another water stop. At this point I felt fine. My legs weren’t tired. Surprisingly I wasn’t feeling any
pain… especially since I had tweaked my hamstring the weekend before when I ran
an easy four miles. My body
felt fine. It was my brain that
was tired and weak. I began
considering quitting. Why
shouldn’t I? I’m not having
fun. I’m not making a difference. I didn’t care if I let myself down.
Then I saw my parents again at mile 12. I told my mom… I don’t know what I’m
doing. I don’t want to do this
anymore but I kept going. I knew I
would pass them at this spot again so I would decide what I wanted to do before
I got back here again.
As I approached the 13th mile marker, I slowed to
a walk so that I could get a Gu Chomp and some water. And without much thought or consideration I just turned
around. I got on the sidewalk and
ran back toward my parents and the half marathon runners. Done. That was it. I was over it for the day. I wasn’t doing poorly. I was pretty much on pace with where I
wanted to be. When I turned around
I passed the 4:30 marathon pace group.
For a brief second I considered joining them and making new
friends. But I didn’t. I didn’t because no one was making me
and I wasn’t going to make myself.
I found my parents again and told them I was going to finish
the half and I’ll meet them at the finish line. I was in much better spirits to know that I was close to
finishing now. The last two miles
weren’t great. Everyone was
walking. It was hot and there were
several decent hills or inclines in the home stretch of this race. But the good news is we finished on a
downhill. I crossed the finish
line. Graciously accepted the half
marathon finisher’s medal from a volunteer and quietly made my way through the
shoot to collect my water, Gatorade, and banana. I found my parents and sat in the shade to rest a
minute. I watched as people cheered the many St. Jude Hero finishers enter their VIP tent. I wanted that. I wanted someone to cheer for me.
I held back my tears and walked to the car in silence. I didn’t feel like talking to
anyone. I had a lot to think
about….
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