Fatass 50K RR: Learning To Suffer Better

The bread and cheese stuck to the roof of my mouth. It was warm and gooey and a stark contrast to everything else about the day. I savored the few seconds of human interaction and heat. The moment was over too quickly. I choked down the last bites, finding it hard to swallow with my dry mouth. My cadence increased and everything that was comfortable slowly disappeared like June sunset.

The feeling in my mouth that morning was the same as it is every race morning. 35 mornings of anticipating at least 26.2 miles or more hasn't cured me of the feeling. I looked at the pile of running gear heaped on the carpet in front of the bed. Long socks, tights, shorts, sports bra, tech tee, long sleeved tech tee, half zip shirt, jacket, buff, hat, tech gloves, fleece gloves. The weather app said 11°F as I donned all my apparel. 

I climbed into my Jeep and it moaned slowly to life. Shivering, I navigated away from my sister's house and onto the highway towards the park. A parking attendant directed me into the last spot in the main lot and I sat in my car for a few minutes collecting my gear. The pavilion was warm and the volunteers chipper. I pinned on my race bib and searched the crowd for a familiar face. Announcements were made and despite the then balmy 16°F, it was decided we would all run start by just running through the double doors towards the start line.

My Garmin had naturally timed out from the start menu and I fumbled quickly to get it functioning again with two pairs of gloves. Approximately 20 runners were in front of me and I fell in line through the first section of single track. 6 loops of 5ish miles. A short section of single track up, a mile or so on flat and fast fire roads, a sharp descent down a fire road, single track along the river, the boulders, the stairs, the best part (flattish single track), the log stairs, and the steeper-with-each-loop climb to the start/finish.

The first lap was fantastic. I felt incredibly fresh despite the 35-36 miles I had raced the prior weekend. Everything was comfortable. Easy. No twinges from my legs, knees, or hips. No stomach conundrums. I ripped the buff from my face within the first half mile. Too hot. 

At the fire road, I listened to snippets of conversations around me and settled into a comfortable pace as my body warmed up. At the steep descent, I barrelled down the road, arms out like wings. I'd pay for my recklessness later, but there are few things better in life than pushing the pace hard on technical downhill. It is the ultimate feeling of being strong and free.

366 days had passed since I had last run this course. Everything seemed so much easier. The hills seemed flatter, the stairs seemed fewer, and I felt better. I clamored over the boulders and charged the steep ascent after the stairs. Everything in the last mile and a half of the first loop was full of trail magic. The frost on the ground, the icicles hanging from the benches, and the sun shining through the barren trees was stunning.

I came through the aid station, grabbed a slice of peanut butter & jelly, threw off my jacket, and continued onto the next loop. The second loop proved just as a easygoing and despite a small belly rumble, I felt ready to run loops all day. I had one bottle half filled with water and the other half filled with Tailwind. Both were starting to turn to slush and I could only laugh at this rare problem in my running life.

At the end of the second loop, I took a small piece of potato and popped it into my mouth. My hydration seemed to be okay so I headed back out for loop #3. There was a guy with a blue shirt and Superman tattoo on his calf that had passed me in the 2nd loop, but he was right in front of me at the aid station. The RD ran after him to get his bib number as he had crumpled it up and messed up his timing chip. He continued on behind me and we ran side by side on the fire road. 

"50K or 25K?" he asked.

"50K, you?" 

"25K"

"Awesome. You're almost done!"

He pushed on ahead and I held back, knowing it was fruitless to push when I still had more than half the race to finish. A short time later, I passed him back as he picked up the pants he left behind on the first lap. I tried to hold steady to my pace, but as I neared the end of the 3rd lap, I felt my spirit starting to sink. A few 25K runners blew past me in the last half mile. One female decidedly looking to secure a 3rd place finish without likely realizing I was still 16 miles from being done.

At the aid station, the volunteer offered me a hot grilled cheese.

The next lap was the best and worst thing about endurance racing. It was full of mental misery and physical pain. Some races skew towards one or the other. This was a healthy mix of leg bonk and the negative thought monster telling every cell in my body to STOP RUNNING. When I took a short tumble (on nothing), I yelled at myself. Eff Liebowitz. Get it together. I thought about dropping to the 25K, dropping to just a marathon distance, or hell, just dropping onto the side of the trail. I began making deals with the devil. If I finish this, I will never sign up....Oh shit, I am already signed up...Well, I will never do THIS RACE again.

I suffered through the lap. I scraped the back corner of the pain cave and overstayed my welcome. It was dark and defeating. And yet, I kept moving forward.

I wasn't out of the pain cave just yet, but I was determined to just get the last 2 laps over with by the time I arrived at the aid station. I sucked down a cup of Mountain Dew. I refilled my water bottle. I stopped at my car for aspirin. I slurped down a Huma gel packet.

When mile 22 clicked off, I gave myself 1 mile to snap out of my funk. Slowly, whatever cocktail of caffeine, sugar, and painkillers I mixed together took the edge off. I began to feel better. I opened a Roctane GU and squeezed the now-hardened packet of cherry lime into my mouth. My pace quickened and I knew that I only had to pass through each section just once more.

One more cup of Mountain Dew at the aid station. The volunteers asked if they could top off my water bottles and I joyfully exclaimed that I was headed out for my final loop. I was deliriously excited about being done in hopefully less than an hour.

A guy who had been leap-frogging with me all day stayed about 20 paces ahead of me for the first mile of the last loop. When we reached the fire road, he stopped briefly and bent over to stretch his legs. The monster was getting him. I shuffled passed him and said, "c'mon man, you've got this". 

Sidenote: I never know what to say when passing someone. Some people want to be left alone. Some want words of encouragement. 

He heeded the message and came shuffling up behind me. I played pacemaker for the next mile and he stayed within my shadow, our breathing and gravel crunching the only noises. It was the kind of moment that is shared only in events such as these. We didn't speak, we didn't look at each other, we just suffered together. I don't know his name and I wouldn't even know what his face looks like save for the fact I saw it after crossing the finish line. 

But I lost him on the descent. The last rumble down the hill was enough to give me a spark of energy and I bounced from side-to-side as I navigated the safest place I could quickly put my foot down. As I hit the boulders, the stairs, and climb the gnarly hill one last time, I allowed myself to briefly look at my watch. Gauging distance was a bit tough, but I was on track for a personal course PR. 

I struggled to run on the last ascents, but I didn't want to leave anything on the table. My legs were burning when I hit the gravel. I cringed as I touched the pavement and gave it one last push. 16 miles prior, I didn't want to take another step. But like some bullshit Cinderella story, I found a way to turn my race around. 

5:16:XX. 

I leaned again the pavilion wall, breathing heavily. I was cold, but undecided where to go. So I stood for a few minutes and just absorbed the activity around me. The guy I had run with briefly came through shortly after I finished and the RD called out to him "hey, you are 3rd!"

Then he sees me standing against the wall. "Wait, is that 329?"

I look at my number, look at him. "Yeah, I'm 329"

"Oh okay. I think you are 3rd overall. Definitely 1st female."

It's a small race. It was 16°F at the start. It was a free race without any swag. Lots of people didn't even start and plenty dropped out or dropped down mid-race. But that day, I was the fastest girl to finish. I'd be lying if I said first place didn't feel good. But I'd also be lying if it felt easy. The feeling of personal accomplishment is there regardless of the time on the clock or the placement in the race. 

“Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure, than to take rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy much nor suffer much, because they live in the gray twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat.” -Theodore Roosevelt 


Edit 1.11.17: Results were posted and I was 4th OA, 1st Female! Oops.

2016: The Year I Said Yes To Big Things

The true competitive runner, simmering in his own existential juices, endured his melancholia the only way he knew how: gently, together with those few others who also endured it; yet very much alone. He ran because it grounded him in the basics. There was both life and death in it; it was unadulterated by media hype, trivial cares, political meddling. He suspected it kept him from that most real variety of schizophrenia that the republic was then sprouting like mushrooms on a stump. Running to him was real, the way he did it the realest thing he knew. It was all joy and woe, hard as a diamond; it made him weary beyond comprehension. But it also made him free. -John L. Parker, Jr.

2016 began with a few races on the calendar, all with the intention of preparing for the BIG RACE in September. I knew I needed to get used to living in the pain cave and make friends with every demon that wanted to stop me in my tracks. That meant a lot of miles, a lot of time on my feet, and a lot of bibs to keep me accountable. 

Though I follow no formal training plan and prefer to live and run as free from a schedule as possible, I do love looking at data. 

Running cumulative data:

 Fitbit data (because I average 10,000 steps/5 miles at work on top of running!):

But, as much as I adore data, I like photos even better! I will always have the memories swirling around somewhere in my head, but the pictures help conjure up the stories associated with each race.

My 2016 running recap:

In January, I started the year with the GUTS Fatass 50K. 6 loops of 5ish miles in Sweetwater Creek Park. There usually aren't any photographers for fatass races (re: free) so here's a pic of me drinking a beer right after the race:

5:22:34, 2nd female, 7th OA

A couple of weeks later, Adam and I flew to Miami to visit his family. We walked the 5K with his brother and dad while my sister-in-law ran ahead in preparation for an upcoming half-marathon.

The next day, I met up with JJ, my sister-from-another-mister-internet-BFF for a little runpartying along the streets of downtown Miami. I was a couple of weeks out from my 50K and she had been sidelined by injury. So we took shots of beer, danced with bands, and basically caused a ruckus for 26.2 miles:

3:55:12, 137th female, 798th OA

In February, Adam and I headed west to watch the Olympic Marathon Trials (!!!!!) in Los Angeles. Sitting on the curb within range of touching my sheroes and heroes was the ultimate in runner geekdom.

Galen Rupp

Meb

Shalane and Amy

Desi

Hanging out with some of my favorites at Bangle's house was on par with watching the trials. We ran hard and partied harder.

Caitlin was aiming for a sub-4 marathon and/or PR. JJ and I agreed to be the pace team. Despite the heat, hills, and shots of Fireball, we somehow managed to get her across the finish line with her second fastest marathon time ever. I consider it a win:

4:07:01, 823rd female, 3339th OA

In March, Adam and I headed to Myrtle Beach for a short overnight trip. I had won an entry to the Myrtle Beach Marathon and squeezed it into my calendar. It was the first time I was running a road marathon by myself in 2016 and I decided to see what the body could handle.

 

3:22:14, 10th female, 120th OA

April is BOSTON MONTH and I was raring to go with 6 more weeks of training under my belt. I actually did a bit of speed work and marathon paced workouts. It was a warm day and I held close to my goal until the Newton Hills chewed me up. But people, it is Boston. A course PR and crossing the finish line of the most prestigious road marathon is about as good as it gets.

3:20:59, 780th female, 5182nd OA

In May, Steve mentioned to me a gnarly little race in Indiana that he was running. I managed to coordinate the weekend off and found myself toeing the line of my second 50 miler. It was rainy, muddy, and almost 10,000 feet of elevation gain. But I had so much fun running, camping, and road-tripping that it was easily one of my favorites of the year!

10:53:35, 3rd female, 12th OA

In June, I found a race that I could get a little night running practice in before my overnight attempt in July. The Midsummer's Night Dream Ultra was a 6 hour race that started at 9pm. Unfortunately, it was terribly humid, in the mid-80's all night, and I couldn't get my nutrition/hydration correct. I felt miserable the entire race. Which sucks because I won. I'm only smiling in the picture because I was done: 

37.2 miles, 1st female, 1st OA

In July, I was nervous and excited to tackle 12 hours at Merrill's Mile. The longest time I had ever run before was at Gnaw Bone and I didn't want to assume anything about how it would feel; especially during an overnight race. Steve drove to Atlanta to hang out for a few days and run this crazy race with me. My goal was to hit 100K (62 miles). I ended up with a 50 mile PR (8:07:23), an instant 100K PR (10:29:45), and finished with 68.67 miles in 12 hours.

68.67 miles, 1st female, 1st OA

A couple of weeks later in July, someone had this crazy idea to run a midnight marathon in Tennessee. On race day, Hal, Dan, and I all discovered the race was actually at 1 a.m. EST. And starting temps were in the 80's. It was basically a repeat of June's race. I did a cartwheel over the finish line. My stomach was a wreck for 24 hours. 

I'm in the middle, standing to the right of the tallest guy in the photo, with a black sports bra and yellow visor.

3:49:32, 5th female, 17th OA

The road trip to the middle of Livingston (??!), Tennessee in the middle of the night was worth the insanity.

In August, I hadn't really been looking or planning anything. It was the last big month of buildup before BIG ONE. I decided on the last weekend of the month to bring my gear to work and beg off a bib number for the Yeti Snakebite 50K. I honestly didn't think I was going to get to run because the thing was sold out. But the RD is super cool and handed me a bib. Uh...guess I'm running a 50K. I had zero taper, was coming off a 65 mile week, and had worked all day.

Whatever. I made an awesome new friend, forded a river 3 times, and played in the woods all night.

6:36:57, 4th female, 23rd OA

September, September, September. All the miles and races had been leading up to the BIG ONE. The good news was the I felt extremely prepared and extraordinarily excited. Jenster, Steve, and Angie were going to be there experiencing the same ups and downs. The bad news was the summer was not quite over come race day and temperatures soared near 90. But I stuck with a generalized game plan of super easy pacing all day. My patience paid off and I hit the tracker with 100.7 miles at 4:33 a.m., an instant 100 mile PR of 20:33:00.

109.866 miles, 1st female, 2nd OA

In October, once I recovered from the immense brain fog, I decided it would be cool to have a marathon or longer distance each month of the year. I ran a couple of easy weeks and felt actually pretty normal considering the physical toll it took running 100+ miles. Then my Achilles started to feel swollen and painful. I backed off a few days at a time, but the window to run 26.2 in October started to close. It wasn't a very smart decision at the time, but my friend Matt (who I met at the Yeti Snakebite) helped procure a bib for me at the Greenville Marathon about a week before the race. I decided to do it in a donut costume. 50% because I knew I would have an excuse to run slower, 50% because I had to run a race in costume before (just a tutu, not the same). Somehow, the marathon cured me? It's so not recommended, but seriously, I haven't had any Achilles pain since...

3:55:30, 14th female, 94th OA

24 hours passed after the October race and I decided to sign up for Savannah the following weekend. I signed up so late that there weren't really many viable hotel options so I decided to just camp on Tybee Island. Hal decided to do the half and we made a road trip of it. I truly was just going to see where the morning took me. The 100 miler, the Achilles thing, the donut marathon the weekend before.... my expectation was just to finish in one piece. But as the miles clicked off, I started to feel ah-mazing. The momentum kept up all the way to the finish line and I found myself with a 2018 BQ!

3:28:04, 13th female, 79th OA

In December, there is Rehoboth. It has been so good to me. I was hungry for a marathon PR--after all, it had been since the last Rehoboth that I had earned a 26.2 PR. I took it out hard and fast and bonked so hard in the end that I lost my 3rd female position in the last half mile. But, I earned a new PR and am proudly under 3:20!

3:19:22, 4th female, 52nd OA

I normally work over Thanksgiving and Christmas and like to take the few days surrounding New Year's off. So I started checking out options and decided to race this past weekend. It was the first year of the Resolution Run, a timed fatass race in Greenville. Matt met up with me at the exact moment the race began and we trudged through about 22ish miles together. It was hillier than any timed race I've ever done (totaled 2500' in elevation) I wasn't feeling it for the first 22 miles. I sat around in funkytown for about 3.5 hours. Finally, something snapped (I give kudos to the magical Sprite) and I pounded out the last 14 miles feeling remarkably well. 

 36 miles, 1st female, 2nd OA

As I sit here and type up the summary of my version of a monster year, I am most aware of the people that have made these snippets of my life possible. Without these friendships and positive peer pressure, I would never have attempted 90% of this craziness. The more I adventure and break out of my comfort zone, the more I want to keep going. To those who have encouraged me along the way, thank you, thank you, thank you.

As for 2017, I am leaving this as a little reminder for myself (and maybe you too?). I wrote it the week of Hinson Lake and surprisingly, it makes sense.

Let's go do bigger things!

Rehoboth Runparty PR Bonkfest

A year ago, I thought I didn't need to go to Rehoboth again. It had given me my first BQ in 2013.

A tutu PR in 2014.

And the best race ever in 2015.

What else could I need from this race in Delaware?

Apparently nothing and everything.

I had everything I could want in 2016. There is so much to recap, but I'll do that in a separate post. I signed up for Rehoboth mid-year without any goals or expectations in mind. In fact, I still would have been satisfied with merely a medal around neck. The finish time never mattered.

And not that I'm dissatisfied with a PR (spoiler alert!), but it solidified that my relationship with running and racing is not always measured by the clock.

Thursday, 8:30 p.m.
Megan came by as promised to paint my nails. She found a fabulous nautical theme that matched my previous finishers' medals.

She also dropped off an envelope for me to open on race morning.

Thursday, 11:00 p.m.
I brought our senior dog, Luxy, downstairs to go to the bathroom outside. She had been whining off and on all evening, but I couldn't quite figure out what was going on. When I set her in the grass outside, she started having a terrible seizure. I watched helplessly as she shook. After a few minutes, I brought her trembling body inside and called for Adam to come down. We watched over her lying on her side, wordlessly wishing that the pain would be over for her soon. Neither one of us spoke much and eventually, I pulled the bed over by the family room rug so I could lay on the floor.

Adam eventually fell asleep on the sofa with Torrance and Moe. I dozed off and on, resting my head on a cushion on the floor, one hand on Luxy's failing body. I changed out paper towels at intervals and fretted about what I was going to do when it became imminent for me to leave for the airport.

Friday, 5:45 a.m.
Wrecked with guilt, Adam and I were forced to discuss how/when to take Luxy to put her down. I hated to leave him to take care of it all. It seemed so wrong and selfish of me to go. But I was also relieved as I knew that I didn't want to be sitting around for 4 days (that I had taken off work for Rehoboth) at home, surrounded by sadness.


It took me 15 minutes to walk out of the house after I tried to leave the first time. My slow tears grew into big, ugly sobs. I kissed her forehead 100 times and held her in my arms. I ran upstairs before I left and grabbed her collar (which she hadn't worn for a few months as she was no longer a flight risk) and stuffed it into my purse. As I stepped out the door and forced myself to close it for good, my heart ripped apart. The drive to the airport was about an hour and I spent a good 30 minutes gasping for air while I cried uncontrollably.

The tears subsided as I parked, checked my bag, and went through security. When I reached my gate, I texted Adam for an update. He called me back and told me that she had passed at home while he was getting ready. I tried to keep my composure among a terminal full of strangers, but tears streamed down my face with the news. I was relieved for the end of her pain and the feeling of closure, but I allowed myself to feel grief. Sweet girl, you are missed.

Friday, 11:30 a.m.
I was so wrapped up in the my thoughts when I stepped off the plane that I didn't even notice Steve was waiting for me in the terminal. I started walking with a purpose towards baggage claim and he had to catch up to me. Seeing a good friend gave me a sense of relief. Though my heart was heavy, Luxy's death was also a reminder that our time here on Earth is short. I could allow myself to be sad when the moments washed over me, but it was okay to be happy too.


We went to pick up the rental car, got a free upgrade (!!), and headed out to Rehoboth Beach. There was the usual stop of Subway and a supply run before we pulled up to the beach house right behind Erin and Bacon.

Friday, 3:30 p.m.
Erin and Bacon were wearing the race shirts from packet pickup because both didn't have an extra long sleeved shirts. They were about to do a 20 minute shakeout run and suggested we come along. I decided to walk the block down the street to packet pickup (awesome rental house location!!) and then I switched shirts in the street so the 3 of us could wear our race shirts during our shakeout run. Unnecessary and superstitiously bad? Yes. Hilarious and worth the odd stares from strangers? Also yes.


Friday, 5:00 p.m.
While waiting for the rest of the crew to arrive, we headed over to Dogfish Head to grab a beer or 2. DFH never disappoints and I had two brewpub exclusive IPAs.

A few more joined us for the second round and then we all walked back to the house. Dinner was started (thanks Caitlin and Chris!) and soon, we were sitting around the huge dining table cramming spaghetti into our mouths. Others joined us later and a total of 12 stayed at the house this year--a small group compared to the first year I went, but the smaller number kept things like meals much easier to coordinate.

Friday, 8:30 p.m.
After dinner, we sat around talking about running as runners do. I was exhausted from barely sleeping the night before and was having a hard time keeping my eyes open. Once the first suggestion was made to call it a night, I bolted upstairs to get some sleep. Caitlin and I were sharing a room and we laid out our flat girls before snuggling into bed.


Saturday, 5:15 a.m.
I heard Caitlin's alarm go off and I laid in bed knowing that I didn't have to get up right away. My alarm was set for 5:30 a.m. and that was plenty of time to get ready with the start line only a couple of blocks down the street. I got a bagel and coffee first and then went back to change into my race clothes. I tore open the envelope Megan gave me when she painted my nails and inside was a bracelet inscribed with the words she believed she could, so she did.

I immediately knew that I had to wear it while racing. I touched Luxy's collar in my purse and then met everyone downstairs.


I had a Snickers bar right before we left and felt completely at ease as we walked towards the start. A PR was definitely possible given my year, but I knew it would completely depend on how I felt once my legs got moving. The weather was perfect at the start. Chilly and sunny. The wind seemed to be okay.

Saturday, 7:06 a.m.
Everyone was murmuring about when we were to start, but the gun finally sounded a few minutes after 7. I took my time easing into the first mile and tried to relax as we spread out. People position themselves fairly well for this race and I didn't have to do too much weaving. I tried to stay close to the right hand side of the road, knowing the first few turns were right.

My legs felt pretty good from the beginning and I decided that I would make a go for it when I hit the second mile. If I failed, at least I had given it a shot. The wind was noticeable as we headed on the straightaway along the 3rd mile. If it kept up, I knew I would be in for some tough miles later on. 7:39, 7:13, 7:22

I saw Erin, Bacon, and Ken on their way back after the turnaround for the half-marathon. Then the full marathoners split off onto the first section of trail. I noticed the slight increase in effort right away, but it became ridiculous when I hit the crosswinds next to the lake. 7:17, 7:30, 7:24

I was still trying to reel in runners in the single digit miles as the course wound through Cape Henlopen State Park. I'd run shoulder to shoulder with someone and then one of us would slowly fall back while the other inched forward. At the out-and-back I saw 2 females ahead of me and a bunch right in my shadow. 7:33, 7:15

The highway section felt particularly tough this year. The headwind going into miles 9 and 10 was ferocious and I tried to stay in the back of a pack of runners. There were 3 guys and 1 other girl and the 5 of us fought together, jockeying for various positions as we ran down the stretch. 7:31, 7:32

At the turnaround, I felt a sense of relief as we picked up the tailwind and headed back towards town. There were still 16 miles to go, but there was something about running "back" that felt good. The other girl we were running with dropped back along with one of the guys and the other 2 guys in our pack took off in front of me. I saw Steve, Caitlin, and Angie on their way out and mustered waves and smiles as best I could. 7:23, 7:16

I wavered a bit at mile 13. I was about to annihilate my fastest half marathon split in a full. But I started to feel the efforts of the first half catch up with me hard. As we ran up a very teeny hill around the lighthouse, I knew the second half was going to be tough. I hated having these negative thoughts so early, but I allowed myself to know that I would still had an awesome afternoon/evening no matter what it said on the clock. 7:20, 7:40, 7:30

There were big stretches where I was alone at this point. My thoughts drifted to Luxy and a few tears dripped down my face. Running in the cold had my nose dripping enough; this was just excessive. I touched the bracelet on my wrist a few times and fought through the dark places. 7:31, 7:40

The course travels back through town at mile 18 and runners (cruelly) can see the finish line. I was not in a happy place. As the course hit the road section that connects to the second trail, huge gusts of wind nearly stopped me in my tracks. I felt as though I could have leaned into the wind and it would have held me up. Gah! 7:44, 8:00

There were still a good number of half marathoners on the trail and so it became quite crowded again. I was actually glad for the mass of humanity as it gave me small targets to hit with each step. But without looking at my watch, I knew that any chance of my second half matching my first half was not going to happen. I saw the first place female who was way ahead and then I saw the second place female about a minute ahead of me! 8:06, 8:11, 8:02
 
Whoa. Third? I ran a 3:20 at this race last year and was 10th? I saw a few females not too far behind me so I definitely had to find another gear for the last 4 miles. Except it wasn't anywhere to be found. I knew 4 miles was a long way to go at the end of a marathon and it could shred anyone no matter how close to the finish they were. I saw Steve, Caitlin, and Angie who all managed to shout or give high fives. 7:49, 7:44, 8:02

When I hit the pavement again and could spot the mile 25 sign, I was so relieved that it was almost over. And I was 3rd overall! I spotted JB crouched down along the road and whacked him on the head as I went by because I was so elated to see him.

The race photographer got a few shots along this stretch too.

The smile is fake. I am dying inside. I come around the sharp corners of Canal Crossing Road and then out onto Rehoboth Avenue. My arm warmers are annoying me and I take off my gloves. As I am shoving them into my sports bra, a girl goes flying past me in a marathon bib.

Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa?

I try to find that other gear. Revved with adrenaline of being passed at mile 25.7, I dig deep and.....shred my calf.

What. The. Eff.

My gloves fly out of my sports bra as I struggle to even keep up with the pace I was at. My calf is screaming in pain and I am hobble-running into the final turns. 7:22

I come into the finish chute and feel wrecked. I cross over the finish line with a shiny new PR and am shocked at how pissed I feel about losing 3rd.

Who is this person?! When did I start caring about that kind of thing?!

I collect my race medal and heat sheet and then I have to collect myself. Holy emotion Batman! I should be happy about my PR. 3:19:22!

But it doesn't sink in yet. I am mad about losing 3rd. I am mad that my calf hurts. I am mad that the race was really hard. I am mad that my dog went over the rainbow bridge. I am mad that I am not happy.

I laid on a side street spread eagle on my back for a few minutes. I am exhausted and broken, but I know a few minutes alone dealing with it will point me back in the right direction. Eventually, I pull myself up and see Jenster walking down the street towards me.

Saturday 10:40 a.m.
Jenster and I walked down the street and wait to see Steve, Caitlin, and Angie come through the finish. There is nothing like watching people finish a marathon to cure you of moping. Within a few minutes of cheering and clapping, I shut down my sorry parade. It really didn't matter what the clock said or what place I came in or how tough it was. I'm lucky enough to be doing it and lucky enough to be surrounded by a lot of really, really great people afterwards. And that's everything I need.