Saturday, April 3, 2010

Cold feet

Today we ran the Vernonia Half Marathon. I was super excited because it is the first race we have run since January where all we had to run that day is the race. That means I could push a little harder and see how fast and awesome I could run a half marathon. My first "official" half marathon.

I'm going to spoil the story for you here: it was EASILY the worst race of my life and, possibly, the worst run of my life.

We left the house around 8am and headed northwest to Vernonia. Vernonia is a very small town 45 minutes away in the boonies. We had a big storm last night and it was still cold, but we were hoping it would taper off a bit for the race. As we headed towards Vernonia we witnessed some very bad news. Snow. Inches of it on the ground. Then, worse, it started falling. This would be a cold, wet race no doubt. But, I've been training through the winter - I am used to this and I could handle it, right?

We get to the check-in, get our numbers, our shirts, and check our dry clothes bag. The whole setup was outside in a park in a covered picnic area. There were 3 heating lamps that people were huddled around. It was about 34 degrees with no sign of warming up. At 9:30 we started the race. Running felt great. It started snowing within the first mile and then seemed to clear up. The next 9 miles went great. So great, in fact, that I was convinced that I was going to shatter my goal of 2 hours and 10 minutes. Despite having to navigate through a lot of slush on the paved trail, everything was going great.

And then my hopes and dreams of a great race were shattered. The next 4 miles were one disappointment after another. It started with the beginning of the unpaved portion of the trail. I was expecting packed gravel, and that's probably what it was before last night's storm hit. Instead we got mud, puddles/lakes, ice, etc. It was awful. Every step I took seemed to be a half-step because my feet were just slipping all over the place. It was okay, because I knew that there was a downhill coming...

Boy was I right. In fact, it was such a downhill that there was a volunteer standing at the top telling us to be careful because it is a very steep hill and it is very slippery. So, I got my downhill, but in trying not to hurt myself, I had to walk it. All that climbing for nothing. We got to the bottom, crossed a road, and looked at the steep, slippery downhill's evil brother. The uphill version. Now, this hill was so nasty that Mike suggested that we just walk it. Mike. My husband. The one that can push through everything and helps me to push through. Walking. That's how bad it was. Ok. This mud crap has to be over soon, right? Wrong. We had at least 2 more miles of it. Seriously, these puddles were ankle deep and we really had no option but to run right through them. My pants were soaked with mud up to my knees. Every step was a calculated placement making the physical and mental challenge of this race unmatched. I was pretty sure that someone was going to jump out of the woods and tell us that this was all a big joke.

And then it appeared again - the paved trail. With a gradual downhill. Straight from heaven. It felt amazing to RUN again. It was at this point when I started thinking, "okay, all the mud and snow and wet was bad, but this is okay. We are almost done and I feel like I have done a pretty good job. Let's finish this." I spent every moment of that pavement trying to stay positive about that race. And then there it was. The turn that would shatter all of my positive thinking. There was a race volunteer standing at the end of the paved trail, pointing towards a road, saying "just a quarter mile longer". Well, that road that he was pointing at was STRAIGHT uphill. The guy that was running in front of us just gave up and started walking. I sighed a big sigh and just started crying. The good news was that in .25 miles this nightmare would be over. The bad news was that I had to climb Mt. Ridiculous before finishing. Mike started in, "you can totally do this. Come on. You are awesome." I did. I dug in, kept one foot in front of the other, and ran up that hill. We saw the 13 mile marker at the top of the hill, turned into the parking lot and finished the race. 13.1 miles. 2 hours and 18 minutes. Ugh.

I got my medal and a space blanket. It was freezing. We rode a bus back to the start of the race. As we were walking back to the car I was fighting back tears. I was cold, absolutely exhausted, and totally defeated.

Mike spent the drive home trying to cheer me up. He's a pretty awesome running partner. He asked me, "Don't you feel sort of good? You just ran a half marathon!" At that point, I really couldn't answer yes. In fact, as I write this, I am still not sure I can answer yes. I am very happy that I am able to run a half marathon - especially THAT half marathon. But I ran 18 miles last week. 26.2 is my goal. I will feel accomplished when I get there. As for today, I am thankful that my feet are no longer soaked with mud :)

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