Holy Mother of God, I DID IT!!!! thirteenpointone.
The race...ah yes, the race. From the beginning of Race Day Adrenaline, it was strange. There was a strange calm, like I was not nervous, I was not scared, I was not dreading, I was not worried. Very very bizarre. But I was stressed. Beyond belief. I just did not feel it?
Looking back on the pre-race days, I see a lot more clearly now. A week ago, I was coming nearer and nearer to this enormous event and I was scared. The problem was, I am almost under the belief that my fear was bigger than me. It consumed me in a way that I did not know how to handle, so what did I do? I turned back to my old standby of poor eating, nutrition and bad habits all around. It sucked. I ate crap because I was stressed and then I would stress out because I was eating crap. It was a vicious circle I thought I had conquered. I was wrong.
Going into the race, so much of it was all a blur. its' still a blur, actually. For a day or two afterwards I'd snap out of a daydream, think about the race and wondered if it was real. I had dreamed of it so many times, I wondered if it was all just another dream. The strangeness of it all was overpowering, yet in a strange sense calming as well. I headed to the VIP area of my training group and I saw people there, so many were extremely happy, excited, they definitely had the faces of Race Day Adrenaline. Lord knows what my face said.
During the race, the most incredible thing I noticed was that I did not have that-every-race-thinking of " This is it, my last race, I'm done." I've thought that in every single hard race I've done. That thought was not anywhere near my mind. Nor was the "Why am I doing this?" thoughts. I can't remember exactly what I thought the whole time, but it was like there was no negativity in my mind at all. Very strange.
The only real issues I had was running out of electrolytes. This downright sucked. After about mile 10, I knew I was starting to drop, and drop hard. My calves would take turns on cramping out in a way that would make me fall flat on my face. There was no pain in these cramps, just absolutely debilitating any movement. I'll add here that this kind of pissed me off. You mean to tell me that with all the 560 problems I could have encountered, electrolytes is the one problem? Seriously?! So I would run a bit, then have to stop and walk. This went on at least the last mile and a half. At one point I was so mad that I wanted to keep running, despite the cramping and nope. I knew instantly that I'd be in a serious injury if I tried. Damnit! But I survived.
The highlight of the race, was seeing no only my fellow training program runners out there cheering me on with the man and kiddo, but also seeing my brother, sister and brother in law. I reached them and was so surprised I started breathing weird. I knew I wanted to cry, but they had cameras in hand! No crying pictures for me! No! So I held it in, but then the need to puke was huge. I knew one way or another something was going to come out. I only prayed it was the upper end.
I had to keep running past them all, despite wanting to stop and hug them all for some much needed comfort, but I also knew if I did, I'd stop right then and there. So I went on. I got safely past them and then spend likely the next mile or so crying my eyes out* at how much it all meant to me.
Maybe that's where my electrolytes went.
The finish was just that...a finish. My time was horrible, I knew that, but at that point, when I damn near fell over the finish line because of seizing calves, I didn't care. After I crossed the finish line of the stadium, the first thing I did was walk up stairs. Are you kidding me? omg. That was just cruel as hell. What was even more cruel was reaching the top of these stairs to have a representative from a local Massage Clinic hand me a card asking me to be a guest for a well deserved massage. In my oxygen and water depleted state, I heard " come for a free massage" I was stoked.
But instead, it was an offer for a $49 massage by appointment. Ok, screw you Massage place, gosh that felt mean to do to someone who was ready to die from fatigue and sore.
It's now day three post race and it still kind of doesn't seem real. What keeps it very real and alive for me is the lovely 'runners rash' [aka chafing] my bra left. Of course. For two days, everytime I moved a quarter of an inch I'd wince and cry out in pain. The worst one yet, leaving me to call my mommy for advice before I feared I had to seek medical attention. So here I sit, with baby butt cream on my chest and wondering if it was all worth it.
Yes, of course it was.
* I denied this to nearly everyone, however.Call me a liar, but I proudly announced that I did not cry, puke or sh!t my pants...but I had forgotten this little emotional overflowing.
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