Oh, well my dear reader...get ready. Herein lies the tale of the time I was running awesomely and then my PB got flushed. well, portapotties don't flush...but...well...you get the picture!!
So let's rewind a bit....
On August 25th, I ran my 18th half marathon. In Edmonton. It is usually a hot hideous haul, but it is thankfully flat. So I figure starting at 8 am will still be cool. I hope.
I had been running steady, and stronger with the help of my training partners Cori and Michelle. They had pep talked me all up. So I was feeling pretty good heading into race weekend. The 10km race I had a week BEFORE the half went well (except the total GI meltdown I had after the race). Timing wise, though I was happy. Then the week before the race I just had GI issues constantly. I laughed it off. Not really, I was stressing. But then by Thursday was certain I had it BEAT!
|This is me "passing" Kip Kangogo - |
2nd place finisher at this years EdMara!
So the Saturday before the race we go for a lovely run ...its's not too hot, but its a great little way to shake the legs out!
We runners then meet up with John Stanton, the owner of Running Room. A nice 3 km run....and we are off. Feels great.And I am starting to feel good about this race.
So race day comes...and I am feeling pretty good. I did have a crap sleep. But that's ok...i feel good.
Lisa who was wanting to come run it with me. Luckily she used a pals bib and was gonna be my pacer. She is faster than me, but wanted to do a SLOWER pace (aka my pace) as she was starting to taper for her first Ultra).
We start out. Pace feels good. In fact, It feels slow. But Lisa keeps popping her arm up saying, "Nope. Hold it back. Keep it for the stretch home!". Pace is 6:20-6:30 per kilometre. STEADY. Not bad. And this is probably the boring part. We hold up this pace for 3, 5, 10 kilometres.
At the 10km mark, I start to get tummy rumbling. Oh CRAP. really??? But I ate carefully this week. I took immodium (shit...maybe not early enough!!!). I push thru...another kilometre...and think out loud...I GOTTA GO!
I know portapotties are right around the corner and barely BARELY make it. WELL OVER 10 effing minutes on the shitter. TEARS. sobbing. cursing. (i wonder how many heard...poor souls!!!). FUCK (sorry) but man...my wicked PB really went down in flames.
I finally stop cramping out and freaking out. And readjust and get the hell out of the portapotty. I am certain I yell #PLOTTWIST as I leap out of the portapotty!!! Guess I have to live with what is what it is...make the best of it....I get out and Lisa is all freaked out about me, worried cause I was so sick. I was freaking. I think I yelled. FUCK IT. LETS finish this SUMBITCH. The poor water crew who witnessed my breakdown!!!
I felt weak. I felt drained. I was pissed. And off we went. I think I drug along at about 6:45-7 min. I slowed down after a kilometre. I would kick it up...then cramp. But I wasn't stopping! I passed a gal who collapsed and was being hauled into the ambulance. I needed energy but was afraid to take a gel or chew...no more GI assistance, thanks!! I drank water...maybe too much. But kept moving. By the last kilometre I ran as hard as I could. I figured it was too late, and no way I could finish in a time I "liked"...but dammit, I WAS GONNA FINISH.
I crossed that line in 2 hours and 36 minutes. about 18 minutes off what I was initially on target for. BUT. I. FINISHED. I saw my cousin, got my backpack...got the baby wipes and changed into clean shorts (why i had them in my bag I will never know)....Got water, a bit of food and went back to finish line.
And felt good about the PERSEVERE factor.
Holy Crap I wanted to curl up and die.
I wanted to stay in that shitty portapotty and keep crying.
But I knew I had a job to do.
And that smile in those pics came after some hugs and cheers from friends made me feel good about the "shitty" run.
So...I had 12km of a steady run at my desired pace. So...if I can do 12 I can follow through with another 8. TOTALLY.
10 more sleeps til my next half.
And 4 weeks til my next after THAT!
Yup. Sometimes it is not the TIME that matters. It is the act of gettin er done that matters.