I got to the race only eight minutes before it started. I ran down the hill to grab my bib and run back up. By the time I made it back up the hill, I had time to hand my shirt to my husband, chat a second with a friend while I pinned my bib, and then... we were off. (Lars said he and Will "ran" after us for about five minutes. Will loves to run.) As soon as I started running, I knew I was in trouble. I had to go to the bathroom.
The first two miles I spent watching runners and looking for a good patch of trees. The two miles went by quickly and at the turn around there was a port-a-potty! As I made my way towards it, I asked the volunteers if anyone was in it. No. I was excited. This won't take long! But...it was LOCKED! Ending up a fisherman was using it. So the stop took a bit longer than I thought.
I lost the runner I was gunning for. "Pinky" I called her. She had a pink shirt and ended up being a ten miler. While I was looking for another runner to try to catch, I passed a few people. And then I found her, "Greenie." She was wearing a green shirt. I finally passed her about a half a mile away from the finish line. "Greenie" made me smile when she cheered when we made it to the top of the hill.
The last half a mile was tough. I started to feel incredibly sick. I even thought, "I don't think I've ever felt this sick during a race." But once I saw I was 200 yards way from the finish, I didn't worry about being sick. I knew I was almost done.
As I crossed the finish line, I saw 37:06. I figure the port-a-potty trip took at least a minute. So, I was very pleased with my nine minute miles.
The race was so fun. During the last mile and a half, I thought about my Thanksgiving race. Why should I decide now to walk it? Why not try to keep running through the rest of October and November? Six months between races is too long. | 