I really do love to run and, in my experience, runners have such a warm, inviting community. I would really be lost (both figuratively and literally) without my running family.
August 28, 2014. The (not so) Great Race. It was a beautiful morning. I had no issues getting into town, parking. Even the shuttle to the start was pretty easy and I had more than enough time to settle in. I braved a port-o-potty. I found a place along the start waiting to get things underway.
As I waited a family started to gather near me. Now, I do find it great when people have support anywhere along the way. There were a couple young boys who seemed excited their dad / uncle / older brother was going to race. This is all well and good until they started to just creep toward me to the point I had to keep moving. I was essentially invisible to them. Seriously, it is a big road and it wasn't like people were lining up for the inevitable gun start.
That aside, the race started. I felt like it would be OK. I periodically checked my Garmin and slowed myself down when I saw I was at my (trained) pace. Mile 1 went by pretty quickly and was sub-11:00. Still a bit too fast given I had 5.2 miles left to go. Mile 2 was very similar and I desperately wanted to find a water stop. I really was not hydrated well enough and it was much warmer than last year. I felt like my calf was starting to cramp which then prompted paranoia and fears of collapsing in the street. Yes, my imagination sometimes runs a bit amok. Mile 4 just sucked. It was an uphill and I gave in and walked. There is nothing wrong with walking. It's just slower (generally) than running and I REALLY wanted to get to my car. I finally made it to the end. I was about six minutes slower than last year. Oh well. I had no illusions of it being a PR.
But about my (temporary) distaste for runners. I mentioned the family who (unnecessarily) crowded me at the start. But along the course. My goodness. If some of these people pass in their motor vehicles the way they pass running, they must have extraordinary insurance premiums! People were weaving into spaces that, really, the fact nobody ended up having legs tangled in a heap on the road was miraculous. Then there were those who felt having elbows out as if they were chickens was "good form." Dude, chickens can't fly so why impersonate a chicken when trying to run? This isn't me criticizing so much as thinking of the safety of others. Some of us are...um....vertically challenged. Like I need an extraneous elbow to the head.
And the finish. GRRRRR...I was tired and felt sick and just wanted water when I finally finished. This would be great if people kept moving. Water acquired, it was off to get an orange. Another gripe: people who obtain their desired post-race "goody" and proceed to stand there or walk along the tables....Get out of the way!! I left the park after that; no reason to stick around. What amazed me was the number of runners (not so likely a non-runner would be wearing a race bib) who just strolled along the sidewalks and streets. When I say "stroll," I mean...walking slower than I did when 9-months pregnant with Helga. It didn't help matters that the tailgaters were already starting to descend upon town.
Thankfully, I made it home for lunch and nap-time. Oh, it was such a nice nap. I woke up still feeling worn out, but...ah...a nap. Today, I feel aches in places I forgot are used when running. My calf is still a bit tender. I'll need to give it some TLC to work it out and strengthen it up. Focus. I must focus. The 10-miler really isn't that far away and I am determined to make a better showing.
Tomorrow, I'll love running, again. I'll go back to feeling like my fellow runners are some of the best people in the world. I'll recover and move on. One mile at a time.
