Richmond Half Marathon 2013

End of the race when I could not smile.

*Note* Another post I started but apparently didn't finish from November 2013, which is when I completed my second half marathon.

I can only write this now because for the most part everything doesn't hurt any more.

This past weekend I ran my second half marathon. This was a huge challenge for several reasons.

The biggest, was that I was going to be running this big long race, alone. My mother and constant race running buddy was unable to run with me due to a foot injury.

This running race, I had to train by myself. The first half marathon I had lucked out and was able to run with a co-worker/friend every weekend with her and her little group. They were training for a full marathon and so half way through their run, I'd get dropped off, they'd grab more water and snacks and keep going.

I was also dealing with an injury. One of my only long runs of 10 miles, I pulled something. I still am not sure what, but it was either a groin muscle or a hip flexor. The only real thing that would help it is time. Time is not something you really have when trying to make sure the mileage for the race is still being covered. Not running is not an option when there are smaller but still fun races happening before the run. So that was a worry.

This race was hard. This race was difficult. This race was lonely. This race pushed me further and harder then I had ever been pushed at a race.

It hurt my knees. It hurt my back. It hurt my lungs. It hurt my shoulders. It hurt my legs. It hurt my feet. It hurt  my baby toe. It hurt my skin. It hurt my emotions. I hurt my stomach. It hurt my heart. It hurt my self confidence. It hurt my courage. I hurt my will to keep going.

This race made me hurt.

I had a high of passing the 2:30 hour mark pace runner for a while. It was around the 10k mark going though a park. Towards the last 3 miles I lost the pace guy. I couldn't see them any more. To be fair, the race was now starting to have a lot of turns around blocks in the city.

I didn't walk very often in my first race and this race was forcing me to walk, towards the end, a little more than I had hoped for. That was depressing me. The cold was depressing me. I had no idea of how long I had be running, what my time was, and that was causing stress. I had wanted to just beat my last time which was around 2:37 but now I thought I was around 2:45 and just wanted to be done. I just kept going because there was nothing else I could do. I had used most of my water and even kept drinking at the water stops.

Yet while I did this, I still kept passing some people. Others for sure kept passing me, but I'd focus on someone ahead of me and I'd try to pass them and I did. Some of them of course came back and passed me but not all of them.

Start of the race, when I could still smile.

There was this one older lady, and by older I mean probably late 60s that was as steady as steady can be. She was an inspiration to me. Not only was she running this race at an unwavering pace, but she was still running. Still doing it, still making it step by step by step. I used her as the person I MUST beat. I didn't want to be out done by her. I am younger, probably more stupid and broken, but she cannot win. So if I had to walk I would, but if she passed me, I started to run again. And we played this for the last 2.5 miles. When I saw the last .5 miles I was so happy I could have cried. Except tears were stuck inside my body refusing to leave.

I had made and worn a shirt that said 13 miles for my mom and .1 for me. Well, when I crossed the 13 miles mark I was so relieved. I was like finally, her miles are over and I can finish my .1 miles. That's it, almost done. Almost done.

If you were to go to the half marathon's website and look up my picture, my face is scrunched up in pain and fatigue. It is not flattering.

The above picture is taken about 10 minutes after I stepped across the finish line. Unable to cry but desperately wanting too. The good news is that my mom was there and she cried for me. I had already tried to puke unsuccessfully about 4 times. Food was impossible to think about. Sitting didn't help. Standing didn't help, walking was slow and limping.

Normally, after races I can enjoy some beer and some food, and  just enjoy the success. This time, I could not. Only about 10-15 minutes after I finished, we were up and moving. Slowly and at a gimp.

My mom and brother, who both came with me, were so hurried to get to the race and find me, they kind of forgot where they parked. And the start of the race and the race's end where in two different locations. So really it became a 13.1 mile run with a 1 mile car seek and find. I wont lie, I was kind of not the best person to be drug around a city and was getting towards the whiny the world is ending side as we got closer to the car.

The good news was that by the time we did find the car I could drink water, Power Aid and even eat a little bit of the bagel where I then successfully passed out in the back of my brothers car.

I limped around for the next 3 days. The knee braces had torn up my legs. My sports bra had caused chaffing under one arm and under the boobs/on the ribs. My baby toe was blistered and bleeding. My knees ached and every time I sat in a chair I groaned when I had to stand up. 

If you asked me the first week after the race if I would do a half marathon again I would have said very quickly, no, I think I'm done. However, now that pain is gone, the sicker is on my cabinet and the medal sits on it's hook, and I'm thinking about it. I'm thinking about it again.The thrill, the excitement, the fear, the glory, the joy of finishing 13.1 miles.

I guess only time will tell. To any of my other runners out there, if it is a 5k or10k or a full marathon you guys rock! Happy running!