Half-Marathon Recap

We picked up my race packet/gear Friday night. DC at night is gorgeous.




We drove in to the race Saturday morning and took a big leap of faith doing so. The lots opened at 6, we got there at 7, and there were only a few dozen spots left at that point. Hubs made me a piece of whole wheat bread with peanut butter on it, so I snacked on that and drank some gatorade.

At 7:15 we headed towards the corrals but decided to make a pit stop first. We waited in a porta potty line for 30 minutes! But! It was smart of us to use the porta potty by our parking lot instead of the ones by the corrals because we overheard someone saying they'd been waiting in line for over 45 minutes and weren't even close to the front of the line. Umm, that's rough.

We walked to my corral, number 25. When I first registered for the race, I estimated my time to finish at 3:30. I knew, if my knee held up, that I'd be able to finish in under 3 hours. (is that slow? Maybe. But I just started training 3 months ago and I am not a runner. Plus? Just finishing the race is perfect in my book.)

By the time my corral got to the starting line, it was already 8:44 am! The race started at 8 am.

I was ahead of my own personal time by 15 minutes. I was cruising along, making great time. And then it happened. At mile 8.

My knee. The pain. It was horrible.

I
was forceddecided to walk.

My inner thighs started hurting so badly at the same time as my knee that physically lifting my legs was impossible. I kid you not.

I was incapable of lifting my legs.

The pain was excruciating. Every single agonizing step I took brought me closer to The Husband, and that's all I wanted. He was all I could think of.

People started passing me that I'd run by at mile 2, mile 3, mile 5. That hurt my self-esteem.

By mile 9, I started doubting I was going to make it to the finish line. A girl named Susan was walking near me in the race and we started talking to pass the time.

By mile 10, I was lightheaded, having blurry vision and could barely move. I mean, over FOUR WEEKS of no long run will make you hurt when you suddenly attempt a half-marathon.

A race van came by at mile 10.5 and I had no choice. I hopped in due to my injuries and feeling weak.

I failed.

As soon as I got in the van, I burst into tears.

I felt like a failure.

There were a dozen other people in the van, both older and younger than me. It made me feel better, but I knew I'd failed myself.

I made the driver drop me off at mile 12 and I ran my way to the finish line. I just had to. (bonus? I talked six other people in the van into getting out and finishing the race as well!)

I found hubs shortly after I crossed the finish line and threw my arms around him.

I don't know that I've ever been happier to see him. EVER.

Between mile 9 and 10, I was at my loneliest. I had to do a crab walk down the last hill because direct pressure on my knee walking straight down KILLED me.

I just wanted to get to hubs and thought the race was never going to end. I hated every minute of the race after mile 4. Hated.

My outdoor runs were no match for the uneven concrete and potholes of Washington D.C.

I told hubs that people that do half-marathons, marathons, etc., for fun are crazy.

Crazy.

I rank this experience as almost as hard as having M. My pain was that high, but I also felt lonely. The mental aspect takes a toll.

I told hubs immediately after I finished the race that I won't be doing another half.

But, I'm hard headed and dumb. So, I will. I need to prove to myself that I can complete it without any assistance. I just need to figure out what's going on with my knee.

The past few days, I've had an issue with the medal. Did I really earn it if I needed help? I had a severe injury and was told by my doc not to run.

I ran anyway.

But still. Is the medal really mine?

Yes. Yes it is, I've decided. I worked too hard for it not to be.