Yesterday was the half marathon in Philly.
I officially trained for the race for months. Getting up early on Saturday mornings and run, run, running until I reached 12 miles a couple times.
On Friday nights I stayed away from junk food, drank plenty of water and went to bed early.
I missed the hustle and flow of Saturday mornings with the fam in an effort to rise to the challenge on September 16.
I stared down the barrel of a long training run on hot, muggy mornings. I nursed blisters and pulled muscles.
I ran while we were on vacations.
Forty-eight hours before the race I packed up the CBL for her first alone trip to Mimi and Pop-Pop's, so that Josh and Pman could have a peaceful "Daddy Parker Weekend."
Twenty- four hours before the race I watched Pman play in his second soccer game.
Two race outfits were packed (just in case) along with many band-aids, Tylenol and a protein packed breakfast for race day.
I wasn't nervous. I just kept saying, (to others and myself) "It's just running. All I have to do it put my feet down. I'm just doing this for me."
3, 2, 1- gun shot fired and we are off.
I ran the first half feeling really good. There were bands along the way, cheerleaders in the street and plenty of people, or runner, watching to keep me distracted.
Somewhere around the half way point, there was a Scottish band complete with kilts, bagpipes and a fur boot wearing Go-Go dancer. The singer jokingly said into his mic, "Only 15 miles left!" He was promptly boo'ed by those of us who had the breathing-power to muster a boo.
Along the way, some little kids held their hands out for high fives and others gripped signs that read, "Go Mommy! We are proud of you."
Somewhere around mile 9 or 10, I started feeling dangerously dehydrated. I didn't drink a lot before the race because I was afraid I'd have to stop running to pee and I didn't want to mess up my time. I didn't end up having to pee, but I did end up losing peripheral vision in my right eye for about a mile or so, maybe a bit more.
As I past the next few water stations, I grabbed two waters and a (warm) Gatorade. They helped, but I was still off. Fuzzy.
My time sucked.
I trained better than that. I feel like everything I gave up or planned for was thrown out the window because I didn't run smart. I should have drank more before the race and stopped earlier on at the water stations.
I'm happy I ran the race. I did run it. The only time I sort of walked was when I was drinking the water because really running while drinking water out of a small waxy Dixie cup seems impossible.
However, I am very disappointed in myself. I'm embarrassed that my race time does not at all reflect the training that went into achieving this goal.
I want to do another one so I can erase this one.
How's that for motivation?
2 comments:
Not all runs are good runs. This "bad" run just happened to fall on that particular day. Case in point- are you ever amazed one day when you set out for a leisurely 3-5 miler and find your feet magically turned to lead the night before, resulting in a dampened, frustrated spirit clinging to whatever willpower and determination there is left just to finish a run HALF the length you'd just done with ease days prior? Some days are like that. I like what you said at the end, that is good motivation. Proud of youuu!
I am so proud of you. You accomplished a goal you set and worked hard to achieve. That's a great thing. You FINISHED!!! I hope you don't abandon this. It's a great stress reliever, gets you some productive alone time, is way healthy and makes you look great. Who cares what your race time is? You reap so many benfits. You keep running, girl!
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