I’m not an athlete. I have tried many, many sports over the years (gymnastics, swimming, dance, soccer, softball, tennis, in-line skating). I’m a team player, which means I keep going because I’m on the team. And I’m cheap, which means if I’ve invested in the gear, I’m using it. But with the exception of maybe bicycling, I have never excelled at any of these endeavors.
And despite being the kid who wheezed her way through the 1-mile fitness testing in the 8th grade, I took up running at age 29. Did I mention that I am not athletic? I tend to be more curvaceous than toned. Stamina is something I seriously have to *struggle* to achieve and fight to maintain. I am not fast and I often pause to stretch.
But when I make up my mind to do something, it’s pretty much a guarantee that I’m going to do it. So when I signed up for the Seattle Rock n’ Roll half marathon back in January, I didn’t make the decision lightly. I knew if I registered, I’d have to do it.
And last weekend, I did!
All in all, I’m happy with the results. My time wasn’t great (see the narrative of the big day, below), but I only walked some of the hills, and finished well and with a smile. And tonight, I felt good enough to go for a quick 3 miles.
So the day went like this:
It started on Friday, after a full work week, when my folks came up to spend the night. Once the girls went down (a-twitter with excitement to have Nana and Pepere over and to finally see what mom’s big run was all about), we nailed down the logistics. Thankfully. I didn’t need any more thinking fodder for the night ahead.
At 10:30, I went to sleep (later than I’d planned), with all my gear laying in wait and with fresh inserts in my sneaks.
And then at midnight, my dear hubby laid down in bed, and my brain WOKE UP.
I instantly knew I was screwed.
I panicked. I reasoned with myself. I tossed. I turned. I reinserted my earplugs. Repositioned my eye mask. I quietly said hateful things to my husband. I not-so-quietly said hateful things to my husband. I flipped my head down to the foot of the bed. I got up and peed no less than three times. I got up and glugged down three swallows of wine. I sat on the doorstep, trying to catch a chill. I wished I had a cigarette.
Nothing worked.
Every single time I thought sleep was coming, a fresh shot of adrenaline would kick the hamster and the wheel would start up again.
By 3:30, it was absurd. My fatigue and anxiety were so diametrically opposed that I was stuck in a total sleepless limbo.
By 5:05, I got up and started the coffee pot. Got dressed. Heated up my eggs and bagel (bleh). And then I remembered I’d forgotten to print off my sign-in sheet for the run.
When the sheet came off the printer, I nearly threw up: “NO NUMBERS WILL BE GIVEN OUT THE DAY OF THE RACE.”
What? Now I SWEAR I’d read when registering that there was an expo where you could collect your bib the day before the race, but that they’d also give out numbers the day of. Of course now, I could find no trace of this statement anywhere on the site (well, who could see clearly after 1.5 hours of sleep on any day?)
I was sitting in the car in a full sweat and panicked when Dave popped in to take me to the run. I nauseously confessed the error I was convinced had cost me the race, had lain to waste all the time and money and energy we’d put into my training. I was humiliated.
After a desperate call to my pal Danika, (who had registered for the run but bowed out in order to nurse an injury and not jeopardize her marathon the following weekend), I was left with the plan to arrive at the race and beg for mercy.
It was a long drive.
The Seattle Rock n’ Roll marathon is HUGE. Thousands of runners would participate and in just about every car around us there seemed to be other runners, anxiously making their way to the starting corrals. And then jam. Traffic came to a halt.
Realizing I was losing time – time to plea my case – I jumped out of the car about a mile from the drop off and began running. Another mile from the drop off and I reached the starting festival and made a beeline for the information tent…
where I came to find TONS of bibs stacked up, waiting for their runners to claim them, and a smiling, angelic woman holding out her hand for my sweat-crumpled sign-in form.
Saved.
I’m not a TOTAL asshole.
Or at least I wasn’t alone.
So with bib and tracking chip secured, I made my way to the corrals to wait and realize that I’d truly underestimated my running time when I’d registered. I was waaaay back in line with the 3:00 runners.
Feeling my nausea subside, the hunger came in and I made a push towards the front, hoping to speed up my launch.
After about an hour, I was off. And feeling good.
No aches in my ham. No pains in my hip/IT band. And really – amazingly - no drunken fatigue. Thank you race-day adrenaline! I had some left for the actual run!
And then I started to think of a few things I’d do differently:
* I’d run with a friend. I was actually lonely! Almost everyone else, it seemed, was paired up or in a team.
* I’d wear a hip pack so I could carry both Gatorade and water. (Thank you Ms. Reverend lady for the lovely bottle of water! those pixie cups weren’t gonna cut it!)
* I’d be prepared for the emotions. Panic and fatigue aside, I was really moved by actually running in such a big race with so many people fulfilling so many goals. Every bunch of cheerleaders moved me to tear up!
* Oh. And I’d get some sleep before running the most miles I’ve ever run in my life.
In the meantime - while I was taking my “free time” to reflect - Dave was parked about halfway along the route, ready with the camera waiting to document the fact that I actually did this.
When I saw him, I almost couldn’t breathe while choking back those tears!
After a quick kiss and hug, we ran our separate ways. Me, along *lovely* Lake Washington, towards I-90. Dave, to Capitol Hill to rendezvous with my folks and the girls. Thanks to Dave for coming up with the best plan to get the girls and my folks out to see me: park at his office and bus it downtown. No fighting the detours and crowds closed lots and insane parking fees! Genius.
The next 7 or so miles I gave in a little to the relief of seeing Dave and walked a bit more than the first 6 or so miles. But I was still running and I was still feeling good. And I wasn’t even at the really fun part yet!
At about mile 9, the wounded veterans greeted us with a series of posters honoring their fallen comrades and a stream of huge, beautiful, American flags. These guys were out to support me? Oy. Sniff. I’m not a “whoo hoo girl”, but I couldn’t help myself!
Then came the I-90 approach, weaving lanes with the real athletes of the day - the marathoners – and bidding them well for the rest of their haul. Mine was growing short!
The I-90 tunnel was a BLAST! Everyone picked up momentum with the crazy sounds of hundreds of feet hitting the pavement and music pounding through our bodies (U2 - nice choice, followed by Dee-lite – wee!). I might have pushed it a little hard up that tunnel because I have to admit that when I came out, I was a bit winded and disappointed by just how far the city was still. But it was getting closer!
And then I thought how perfect it would be if Dave thought to position my cheerleaders at the I-90 ramp that comes down along the King Street Station. I do love that guy. He didn't disappoint because he’s pretty damned smart and when it counts, he’s on the ball.
I saw dad before he saw me. Then Dave, then mom. Then the girls. My birthday gift.
A mile and a half to go. I was ready to be done, but I was still running.
At the final approach, when I knew I was just a few hundred feet from being done, I realized I still had enough to kick it into (my version of) high gear and am quite proud to report that I actually passed lots of folks to reach the finish.
(That’s me directly on the other side of the gal in the pink criss-cross shirt and then on the far edge of runners, directly under the scaffolding.)
And I kept running! I was running around the runner’s reception, looking for an info booth (had to get my swag bag and T-shirt!) and then for my family.
Then, we hiked it out to grab a bus out of town!
Don't forget to stretch!
They had to sit on my lap on the bus 
And I guess Moo missed her mommy 
Thankfully, we next made our way to some awesome pizza at Tutta Bella (thanks for lunch, Mom & Dad!).
When we got home, the fatigue really hit me and I gave Mom and Dad the boot (well, not exactly!) so that I could hit the shower and then get to SLEEP!
Happy birthday to me. If I can run 13.1 (+) miles in a day, I guess I can do 35.
)
