For the last four weeks I haven't done anything. Since the marathon, but especially after my surgical debacle, I have become deeply involved with my couch (and maybe mint chocolate chip ice cream). I haven't been allowed to do anything at work so I've spent my days staring at paper work and computers. I finally finished Breaking Bad and caught up on The Walking Dead. I also scheduled a trip to see Sean in South Carolina to brighten up my days a bit.
Which leads to our shining moment of brilliant insanity. Sean's close friend was registered for the Run Like A Nut Half Marathon in Florence, SC. Of course misery loves company, so he volunteered us as running buddies. Next thing I know I'm registered for 13.1 miles of pavement pounding.
The days leading up to the race were our normal ritual of bar food and beer, video games and television, spicy things, and CrossFit (which in a moment of clarity I decided to sit out). We also added a new little fur baby to the family, Jake. Much time was spent cuddling and spoiling him (and the other furry monsters, too). I worried a little about my stitches and lingering pain. Mostly I fretted about what to wear. Halloween races are so hard!
Cool kids teach their dogs to play video games
Saturday morning we woke early and met Sean's friend and his coworker at the military base. We piled into one vehicle and headed for Florence around 6:30am. Once we located the parking and start line we went into the Fitness Forum and picked up our bibs, shirts, and swag. We took everything back to the car just in time for the rain to start so I threw my Garmin back in the car along with my phone (sorry, no mid-race pics or splits!).
I was freezing in my INKnBURN skeleton shirt and denim shorts. I hadn't expected it to be colder in South Carolina than Pennsylvania and I really wasn't prepared to be wet on top of it. Thankfully a kind woman handed me a single use poncho as we huddled near the starting line.
We were sent off shortly after with very little fuss. Sean, our companions, and I set off conservatively. We ran and chatted and laughed but I could already feel my insides twisting and spasming. I tried to ignore it and focus on enjoying the company. I thought to myself, "We have to be at least 5k in by now. It's only single digit miles now." Then I saw the 1 mile marker and knew it was going to be a long day. I'm pretty sure I even cursed out loud.
From there things continued to go downhill. I checked out mentally. If someone asked me a direct question, I would respond. If our whole group laughed, I would too (even though I had no idea what was being said). I was already deep in the pain cave and we weren't even 5 miles in yet. The only upside was that I was mostly warm and dry in my poncho unlike the rest of my group.
Around mile 7 or 8 Sean's friend said something about my breathing sounding labored. Sean started to explain that I always sound like I'm dying but the conversation was just enough to pull me out of my own head. I suddenly realized I was being stupid and slowed to a walk. Sean dropped back and joined me and we told our companions to go on without us. We walked hand in hand for awhile, just talking, but it was too cold to stay slow for long. Sean mentioned that I could quit any time but I quickly dismissed that idea. If I had made it almost 9 miles then I could finish.
We picked up the pace again and passed the 9 and 10 mile markers. The rest of our group was long out of sight and the back of the pack was passing us with every walk break. We even saw the sweep vehicle on an out and back at one point. That was enough to put some pep in my step and we started running more than walking again. A friendly stray cat joined us for a couple blocks, running to catch us and then winding around my ankles until I started moving again. It was the best mood boost I could have asked for at that point.
Sean was once again the voice of reason, forcing me to walk when I looked or sounded as if I was in too much pain. Finally, I told him that we just needed to finish. Nothing was going to make me feel better until I could quit running. So he took the lead and said, "Just focus on staying on my heels." I put my head down, pushed back into my own head, and off we went. It was exactly what I needed until I got a foot cramp around mile 11 or 12. Forced to walk again, I couldn't escape the pain. Finally, the cramp subsided and Sean took the lead again, slowly picking off a few of the runners who had passed us during my walk breaks.
At one point, Sean started trying to encourage me. "Just a little more baby." "You can do this." Being pulled out of my mental fog brought all the pain front and center again. I snapped, "Shut the (expletive) up and run!" Thankfully Sean wasn't upset by my outburst. Instead, he took my advice and poured on a little more speed.
A volunteer at a turn told us, "Five more blocks." and I about died with happiness. It was the longest five blocks of my life but we finally turned the last bend and I saw the line. Sean and I crossed together and grabbed our medals. Then it was back into the warm building to find our friends and get dried off and fed.
Much happier (and apparently forgiven) after we finished
Our official finish time was 2:21:54. We were 78th and 79th overall. I was 4th in my age group and Sean was 5th in his. While our results are not at all impressive ordinarily, this time I am more than happy with my performance. I proved to myself that I haven't lost all of my fitness and mentally I can still push through even the toughest runs. I got to spend a few miles with my favorite person on earth and a couple really good friends. I didn't die and I don't think I caused any permanent damage. Overall, it was a great day!
Even Jake says it was just what we needed