Hello, readers…if any of you are still out there. I’m sorry I’ve been away for awhile. December has been a hectic month. And not just hectic in the ways December often is, but hectic in the life-steps-on-your-neck-and-takes-your-lunch-money type of way as well.
Anyway, I have been meaning to write about several things, and I haven’t had time. So I will start with this - the longest post ever.
As many of you know, I ran a half marathon about a month ago. I trained five days a week for three months and thought it was going to be a cinch. I had even trained up to 12 miles when everyone had told me I only needed to train up to nine. In fact, I ran twelve miles on my thirtieth birthday, which I am pretty sure earns me some kind of bonus points. (P.S. No one told me beforehand that you actually gain weight when you train for a half, so I was lucky enough to be six to eight pounds heavier for my birthday. And no, it wasn’t all muscle. I may not have paid much attention in health class, but I’m pretty sure there’s no such thing as a muffin top muscle.)
The day before the race, we headed down to San Antonio where we met up with my parents. We did the obligatory picking up of the race packet, attended the pasta party, wandered the Riverwalk for a bit, and went to bed early.
When my alarm went off at 5:45 the next morning, and I looked out the window to see complete darkness, I wondered what on earth I had gotten myself into. But I peeled myself out of bed and stumbled around until I found the bathroom. I tried to stay quiet so hubby could get his extra fifteen or twenty minutes of sleep before he had to take me to the starting line.
I’d gingerly laid out everything I needed the night before: running clothes, running shoes, running socks, hair band, race number, shoe tag, nasty whole wheat English muffin with peanut butter, Gatorade, antibiotics, inhaler, sunblock…and I methodically put on or consumed each item. I finally woke up hubby just as his alarm went off, and we took off into the dark, steamy morning. The closest drop off point was still a good mile or more to the starting line, so I got a nice warm up in as the sun was coming up.
I lined up in my corral with 30,000 of my closest friends. The vibe was great. There were DJs, musicians, balloons, people in costume - a lot of excitement for 7:00 AM. One by one, they started to let each corral go. I was corral 16, so it took half an hour before we finally got to go. But when we did, what a rush! At each mile marker, there was a stage with a band. And all along the way, there were cheerleading squads cheering, people yelling encouragement from their lawnchairs, people holding signs, even high school bands playing. And they were all there to see us!
The first time I saw hubby and my parents was as I passed the Alamo, and I got another shot of adrenaline. Seeing the ones you love in the crowd cheering you on works better than carboloading. Throughout the race hubby kept appearing, taking shots of me like a paparazzi.
At mile 7.5, he even ran alongside me for a few blocks. I’d just choked down a Gu Gel at that point and washed it down with Gatorade, so I was still feeling pretty good. I was busy telling myself I was more than half way done. I could even hold a conversation with him as we ran.
As the sun got higher in the sky, it started to get hotter. But the heat wasn’t what got uncomfortable; it was the 94% humidity that started to wear on me. I was stopping at every water stop and sucking down Gu Gel to keep myself fueled. And I was still feeling pretty good…until mile 12. I hit a wall, and it seemed like that mile just wasn’t going to end. I was sure they’d made some sort of mistake. Had I missed the mile 13 marker? I kept cajoling myself in my head “15 more minutes. That’s nothing. You can do 15 more minutes.” Finally, I saw the mile 13 marker. 1.1 miles to go! But they’d definitely made a mistake measuring mile 13. It was about three miles long. And I was beginning to feel like I was going to pass out. But there was no way I was quitting at freaking mile 13. My family came all this way to see me. They’d gotten up at butt o’clock in the morning to cheer me on. I was determined to finish.
We were at the last 0.1 miles, heading into a tunnel, when we turned the corner to reveal that it was UPHILL. I’d like to take this moment to relay a message to the race course designers on behalf of all the participants of the Rock n’ Roll San Antonio Half Marathon…SCREW YOU!
I actually had to stop running at this point because, I was getting tunnel vision (ironic, huh) and lightheadedness. But I’m in a tunnel, dang it, I’m not stopping. Besides, what was at the other end of the tunnel looked an awful lot like the finish line, so I powered through and vaguely remembered grabbing my medal from someone as I crossed the yellow line.
Now, I knew that I was supposed to meet my family at a certain spot. But I was also beginning to realize that this spot was a very long walk through a sea of people, and I was not going to make it. I was looking for any place I could sit and finally found a golf cart.
The next thing I remember, I’m laying in the medic tent being packed with ice as I vomit Gu gel into my hair. “Looks like her fever’s at 106,” I hear someone say. “Ma’am? Ma’am? Can you tell us your name? Do you know where you are? Do you know what day it is? How old are you? Are you from here?” I answered those questions like a champ. Then they asked my address. Ummm….
Fortunately, the night before, I’d filled out the back of my race number with my name, address, insurance, allergies, emergency contacts, etc. You know…stuff you can’t remember when you’re packed in ice in a medic tent. I kept referring them to the back of the race number, but they seemed to want to hear the answers from me. And I was so tired.
Finally, one of them said “Ma’am, we’re taking you to the hospital.” Then a thought hit me. My family has no idea where I am. They’re going to wait in that one spot forever and ever and no one will tell them where I am. I started trying to explain to them that they needed to call my family. But they didn’t seem to understand that my family was there in San Antonio waiting for me. They seemed to think that they were in their respective towns waiting for me to return in a day or so. And I wasn’t quite with it enough to explain things.
Meanwhile, hubby is backtracking the course to see where I went. He saw me at mile 11.5, and took this picture.
So judging from the victory arms, I appeared to be doing fine. My parents had backtracked too, and eventually hubby and my parents caught up with each other at the hotel. The hospital had FINALLY called my dad (after me asking “Did you call them yet?” every five minutes.) They’d tried to call hubby’s phone too, but…well, let’s just say those Verizon commercials about AT&T’s network? Totally true. So the three of them piled in the car and hubby took everyone on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride to the hospital.
The ambulance ride over for me was…trippy. When your electrolytes are that screwed up, you kind of go a little insane. I am normally very levelheaded and don’t get panicky. But I think it’s fair to say I just went ahead and freaked right out. I kept asking the EMT if I was going to die. Then I got all existential and was wondering what the point of life was. About the time they wheeled me into the ER, I began to think that they would never call my family, they’d all leave and go back to their respective towns, and I’d be stuck in San Antonio living under a bridge forever. Then I decided they were going to be furious with me for insisting on running this half marathon and ending up in the hospital. Then I got distracted by my hands. Boy did they look weird. I couldn’t stop looking at them. The RN kept yelling at me to put my arms down because I was messing up the IV, but my hands had never been more intriguing and I couldn’t help myself.
Once the first bag of fluid was almost empty, I started feeling a little less insane - aside from the fact that there were no rooms available and I was stuck in the hallway. At least I was where the action was. They were hooking me up to the second bag of fluid when I finally saw my family. And when hubby said, “I’m proud of you,” I forgot about everything else.
About that time, one of the ER nurses laid my medal in my lap. That’s when it dawned on me. I FINISHED. Sure I passed out and overheated and ended up in the ER. But, dang it, I finished. I accomplished my goal. I ran 13.1 miles and finished in 2 hours and 22 minutes - better than the average time. Imagine if I hadn’t had to walk part of that last mile. And thanks to dad, I even have a beautiful picture to commemorate the event. Isn’t he thoughtful?
