Four Hours Later...

OUCH! I'm STILL sore after my half marathon yesterday, but life goes on.

Yesterday went a little different than I expected, but in the end, the whole day was good. After a late race start (thanks Ma Nature...NOT!!!!), I started out on my 13.1 mile jaunt...just a walk in the park (for some).

I was totally last, which doesn't really surprise me anymore, and I could see two walkers about a half mile in front of me. Great, I could at least see them walk the course that was laid out in front of me. That ended about mile 2. I should know the course, right? I mean it's only our hike/bike trail...what's so hard about that? Answer...it's only the 2nd time I've been on it.

I again saw runners coming back towards me, and got a lot of "atta girls", thumbs up, "keep goings", and high fives from EXPERIENCED runners. They've been doing this a hell of a lot longer than I have. You don't know how good that makes you feel when you hear that, knowing you're the last person out there, and them knowing you're the last person out there, trying your best to accomplish something.

The first 6.5 miles were great! I had my ZUMBARUNNER tshirt on, my ZUMBARUNNER MIX playing on my phone (oh, thanks for playing Maghalena at least 8 times during my run, Fuego was at least 6, and Miss Fatty about 4), and the flute section resounding over the orchestra (see previous post about that one...), and I was feeling good...confident I could run the whole distance. Miles 7 through 13.1 proved not so much.

After an error in route judgement...all this work, all of my "training", completely went out the window, and my confidence sank. The orchestra kicked in, all my negative thoughts came to the forefront and there I was, discouraged, depleated, defeated. I still kept going, although not as strong as the first half. It's also hard when you know you're the only one out there. I started getting slower, getting a few short bursts of energy when certain songs came up on my playlist, but I was still discouraged, depleated, defeated. Adding insult to psychological injury, I tripped on a curb, but kept upright after a little flailing, of course. 

Fast forward (if that even applies to me) to mile 12. I had had it. I could barely run, I was in pain  both mentally and physically, and was done. I HAD TO WALK. That was just as hard on me mentally, because I was so determined to RUN the whole race. My goal time was completely thrown out the window. So here I am, walking the last mile, my head down, knowing the two volunteers were behind me in the golf cart making the slowest drive of their lives. I tried to pick it up and run a little bit, but the three "d's" kept taking over.

At last, I saw the finish point. Oh, Thank God, the finish point. All of a sudden I see a friend walking up to me to walk me in for the last half mile. How cool is that?  As we walked closer to the finish point, I saw other race volunteers at the gate and knew that I had to run in the last part over the finish line. My friend was fine with that, so he let me go, and I crossed the finish line to see my parents, another friend, race officials and volunteers cheering me on to cross, and getting hugs and flowers at the end, after 4 hours and 9 minutes. I even did a little "Beto" move after crossing. Zumba lovers, you'll know what I'm referring to. :)

So it was a grueling day (to say the least), and the mixture of emotions still lingers on. In the end, though, I know I have support from friends and family, I have friends who will give me a swift kick in the ass to make me see my accomplishments, (you know who you are, and THANK YOU), and I have the determination to keep going. The fight's not over yet.

Now, does anyone have a cane I can borrow? OUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!