I took forever to leave my house the night before because I kept double-checking my bags to make sure I was bringing everything I could POSSIBLY need for that night and the next day. I even brought my own dinner for that night, my own breakfast for the morning of the race, and my own snacks and drinks for during the race. I brought every imaginable type of clothing - from tank tops to jackets and gloves. I second-guessed everything I did. I called my husband and asked him what I was thinking. All of a sudden, right before I was planning to leave, I no longer wanted to go. I had no business being there, in my mind. I was going to blow it and completely disappoint myself.
I eventually took a few deep breaths, and got in the car. There was no packet pick-up the next day, and the accountant in me couldn't see paying all that money and then skipping the race anyway. So off I went to the expo, where I also didn't know what I was supposed to be doing. It actually ended up being really nice, and I of course spent too much money. It was my first half marathon though. This was HUGE to me, so I felt like the splurge was justified! Hahaha! I got to my hotel afterwards, dug through my bags again to be sure I really did have everything imaginable, and got in bed.
4:00am came quickly - the shuttle for my hotel was arriving at 5:00am - and I was afraid I didn't get enough sleep. I second guessed my outfit so many times that I was rushing out the door. I walked down to the lobby, totally self conscious, wishing I could have checked out what everyone else was wearing before I got dressed. I just knew that they could all tell I didn't really belong there. Gosh was I nervous! I needed to get my act together!
We arrived at the starting line area almost an hour and a half ahead of time. It was cold, and I was alone, so I basically started wandering around and trying to look like I knew what I was doing. I actually met some very friendly people that all wished me the best of luck, and I calmed down for about 5 seconds. :o) Then the time came to get ready to run! I got into my (slow) corral and listened as all the other runners in the faster corrals took off. Gaaahhh! No turning back now, right?!?!?! All of a sudden they announced the start of the last corral, and I had no choice. I was off and running - trying to remind myself that I needed to take it slow.
I settled into a nice pace, and was happy with my ability not to start off too fast. I was actually starting to enjoy myself and was having a good time looking around at the other runners, the crowds cheering us on, and the sights of the area I was running through. I had my own fuel (I'm not gonna lie - it was a baby food squeeze packet - my stomach can't handle the Gu they were passing out) and my own hydration - everything I'd trained with. I had done this in training a few times and just had to tell myself I could do it again. The plan was not to stop to walk at all. I'd discovered in training that although my legs might hurt if I kept running, the pain of stopping at that point was a hundred times worse. So all I wanted to do was keep running....
Of course, I couldn't get that lucky. I knew something wasn't right by about mile 5 or 6, and I could tell I was getting a blister on my instep - same place I always get them. I just don't usually get them so early. I think that was my true downfall. I was more tired than I should have been at that point, because the course ended up being much more hilly than I anticipated, and I soon realized that I was starting to change my stride because of the blister. I let my head take over and gave in to my desire to take a walk break before I even reached mile 7. I wanted to cry right then and there because I knew there was no way I'd ever recover from that break. Once I walked, I would have to keep walking. And I still had half of the race to go.
Needless to say, I was right, and I had to stop several more times to walk. My pace started to slow even while I was running. I was TIRED, my blister was getting worse, and I was disappointed in myself. I don't mean to be a complete Negative Nancy, because I DID eventually finish the race. I kept finding it in me to start running again, and then I saw the turn towards the finish line. I looked at my phone and watch, realizing that I would be more than 10 minutes slower than ANY of my training runs of 13.1 miles, and picked up the pace big time in the last few tenths of a mile. The event actually had a fantastic finish line - we ran into a minor league baseball stadium, and the finish line was set up on the field somewhere around third base. The other runners who'd already finished were enjoying the finisher's festival on the field, and family, friends, and spectators filled the stands. What a fabulous atmosphere to finish my first half marathon! Even though I was sore and disappointed in myself, I still smiled as I crossed that finish line of my first ever half marathon. Regardless of the fact that I hated my time or that I had to walk more than once, I'd finished all 13.1 miles, and that was something to be proud of! I got my medal, all my other bling, and my post-race snacks before heading over to get my official finisher photo. I didn't really have anyone to celebrate with, but it was still fun to enjoy the atmosphere around me with all these other amazing athletes.
I ended up finishing at a miserably slow pace, even for me (2:42:59!), but I had my medal engraved on site with my name and finishing time anyway. I only have one first half marathon, after all. Slow or not, I would never have another first one! I hung out for awhile and then eventually had to leave to catch the shuttle back to my hotel. I wanted to shower before driving all the way back home, and I'd be pushing it even with the late check-out. I guess that's what happens with slow runners! :o) Heck - plenty of the full marathoners even finished their race before I could manage to finish my half marathon! Haha! Oh well - I don't think I'll ever get down to their 5:00/mile pace anyway - so let them have their glory. I'll be happy with my own glory of just finishing!
I still struggle with the disappointment of my performance that day, because I know I can do better than that. I just wanted to finish under 2:30:00. But since I didn't I can't keep that voice in my head quiet that keeps telling me I need to try one more time. So I probably will - even though I had no intention of ever trying another half marathon after this. And despite the disappointment, I still find myself feeling proud at times. I went out and at least made the effort. And I did, in fact, finish. There was some sense of accomplishment and pride in that! Plus, my medal is pretty sweet, and I like to randomly wear it around the house as my husband smiles and rolls his eyes at me. :oD
Here it is:
Pretty nice, huh? :o) I think so! Now I just need to find somewhere better to hang it than the kitchen table.
So after the race, I started to debate whether to cut back on running a bit and focus on overall fitness again, or to just keep running. I was leaning towards overall fitness while maintaining a decent running regimen. I did, afterall, want to run another half marathon someday. Then, less than a week after my half marathon, I was in a car accident. I was a passenger in a car that got hit - HARD - on the side that I was sitting on. The car was totaled, and I got a fancy ambulance ride to the ER. The diagnosis was a severe shoulder sprain/bruise, and a concussion. (I truly thank God every day that it wasn't worse - because I'm not sure how we were all ok, really.) I obviously took a couple days off from all forms of exercise. I was SORE all over and couldn't even move one of my arms. Normal daily activities were difficult enough! As the soreness subsided and movement of my arm became less painful, I decided to go for a run. I felt sluggish after all not doing anything and was starting to gain weight, to tell you the truth. I wanted to do something about it.
So I headed out the door, and soon realized it wasn't going to work. I toughed it out, but turned around at the first mile to jog slowly home. My head felt like it might explode. I've never had a concussion before, and no one at the hospital explained that physical stress would make the symptoms worse. I'm not normally the type to let ailments stop me from doing anything, but I decided that a head injury wasn't something I was willing to challenge. In all honesty, I'm surprised at home much the concussion has impacted my life - fitness and non-fitness both. I'm just now starting to feel better and have been trying to ease back into exercise with some relaxed, easy running/jogging for short distances, and a lot of strength training instead. At this point, I have a few good days for every bad day, so I'm confident that I'm on the mend. I saw my doctor, of course, and am following her recommendations. I am doing whatever I feel like I can and stopping if I feel like I shouldn't. I'm not going to lie though - it's frustrating. I'm just trying to make the most of it! I'll be back out there soon though - don't worry! Until then, I'm going to turn into a beast of muscle. Hahaha! :o) Wish me luck!
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