To be honest, my racing was getting kinda boring. All these PRs and pulling out performances of a lifetime on not much training were getting old. I think people actually stopped reading my blog because my race reports were becoming so predictable. There’s not much fun in reading about everything going right. After all, drama and catastrophe are what make the headlines.
So I present to you in glorious technicolorÂ my juicy tale of the time I crashed and burned quite spectacularly. Because I don’t believe in doingÂ anything half-baked.
It was St. Michael’s Half Marathon, a race at which I got a 3 minute PR last year (boring) and barely broke a sweat (annoying). Picture perfect race, passed lots of people, felt great, blah blah blah. Who wants to read about THAT??!!
This time, I felt like roadkillÂ from the start. I was toast at mile 1. I dragged my rotting carcass across the finish line in a time over 4 minutes slower than last year. I only beat Boston Marathon RD Dave McGillivray because he had pulled a hamstring.
But let’s start from the beginning and savor the 13.1 miles of excruciating agony. Like last year, I started out a little too fast, trying to control the legs and stay relaxed. But this year, the legs said “No way, we are not doing this.” And I don’t mean “We’re not doing this pace,” I mean, “We’re not doing this running thing.” It would have been funny if…well, it was actually funny. And I, of course, stubborn as usual, just ignored the legs. And ran a 6:58 first mile. That’ll show them who’s boss.
But the legs kept complaining. And then they started hurting. At mile 2, my right hip flexor joined in. Shut up, legs. I kept running. 7:10 mile 2. Slower, because that 6:58 did freak me out a bit, but not much slower because, well, slowing down would actually make sense.Â Shut up, legs. 7:06 mile 3. Hmmm, if this were a 5K it would be almost over. 10.1 miles to go.
I’m thinking, wow, if this hurts now, it’s really going to hurt in a few miles. People are passing me. I am slowly turning into roadkill. I will become a human carcass on the side of the road, like all those bloody lumps I had to circumnavigate on my rideÂ last week – May is roadkill month for some reason. I stagger on.
The middle miles of the race are a blur of pain and suffering, during which I barely manage to ingest a GU, choke on every sip of water, and keepÂ clinging to some hope that I willÂ just keel over and pass out, thus putting an end to this self-inflicted torture. Good thing I am wearingÂ my Road ID. I makeÂ bargains with myself – run 7:15 pace…and then a little later – OK, don’t run over 7:30…and then later still – 7:45?Â Stick a fork in me.
At this point I am trying to think of other events equally or more painful…childbirth (23 hrs sure trumps a mereÂ 1:37…), Boston Marathon (both times, the last 5 miles were gut-wrenching misery of epic proportions), running cross-country in Oxford in a hailstorm on a broken ankle (I was insane even at 19).
With a mile to go I decide toÂ pick up the pace because, well, when it hurts that bad what’s a little more pain? Plus, I canÂ see Dave McGillivray up ahead and thinkÂ it would be nice if we were in the same shot when they takeÂ the race picture at the covered bridge (my favorite shot from last year…), so I shuffle towards him a little faster. I reach him with 0.5 to go and tellÂ him “just half a mile!” That’s when he tellsÂ me he’s pulled his hamstring. I feelÂ like saying, “No shit, I’veÂ felt like human bait since mile 1 but I am still passing you” but just grunt and move on…slowly, because that picture isÂ coming up.
Shortly after this point there’s a turn at which you can see the finish line. And there is nothing quite like a finish line to take away all the pain. Actually, that’s bollocks. It hurt all the way through the line, and I staggered around for quite some time after. But when all is said and done, and now that the pain has (mostly) subsided, I can honestly say that, um, well…bloody hell that HURT.
Official time: 1:37:49
Place: 30th overall, 1st in Women 40-44
Oh just one more thing: These photos were taken by Chessie Photo. As you can see they take far better pictures than much of the rubbish that you get. They even managed to make me look halfway decent. If I see a good race pic I am more than willing to purchase it, and Chessie is giving 20% off St. Michael’s race pics thru Saturday with the code QUICK20. And even when I forgot to use said code they applied it to my purchase when I e-mailed and asked them to. Great service!