Okay, in an effort to fully release my thought process of reliving the Detroit Women’s Half Marathon, I have laid out my entire thoughts and conversations below. So……a peek into my brain. This entire thought process is over the course of 4 hours and 15 minutes, so, calm down. I know I am crazy!
Pinkish is my brain thoughts.
Green is my verbal discussions.
Blue are my actions.
(At start grouping)
Ugh. My tummy is cramping. What the hell. Maybe it will get better. Maybe I am nervous.
Okay, here we go. 13.1 miles. You’ve done it before. It can’t be much worse.
This isn’t bad. Looks like it will be flat. YAY!
It is hot and muggy, ugh.
Oh, my tummy is better. Just nerves.
Crap, I forgot the bug spray. My luck I will get West Nile.
Oh, look. A dead frog. Poor thing.
Wow, I am on a pretty good pace. I may finish this with a PR.
Another frog. Ugh. Come on frogs!
Shit. Sunscreen. Forgot sunscreen. Ugh, I am gonna be a big lobster tomorrow.
(going along pretty good)
What? Mile 2? That’s it? Ok, that only a little more than 10 miles, or so. I’ve done that before. As long as I don’t cramp.
Oh, people are turning already! Oh, 5k people. Damn.
Where is the shade? Geesh! All these trees and zero shade. I am totally gonna be burnt tomorrow.
Ok, if I don’t die of West Nile, I will probably die of skin cancer.
Wait? Mile 8? Shit. I gotta make it all the way back here to get to mile 8? That is super disappointing.
Still on good pace, though. Ok. Just breathe.
(pain in left foot)
What is that? My foot? What’s that pain? Ugh, okay. Reset. Walk a little. See if it subsides.
Oh, there is the finish. People are finishing already? The hell! Oh, wait, there was a 5k and 10k option. Why didn’t I do the 5k or 10k instead? I could be done, or mostly done. The fuck was I thinking? But then I wouldn’t get that double medal. Fucking medals. Suck people in every time!
(pass Ron the first time)
Ok, my foot is hurting more. This isn’t good.
Mile 5? Okay. 8 more miles. 8! Shit. That’s a lot. Okay, just keep moving.
Oh, here is a lady at a sign. Okay, people turning towards that mile 8 flag. WOOHOO!
Wait, (reads sign) “first loop straight”? STRAIGHT?!?! OMG! I can’t do this!
Where was that bathroom? It was by mile 8. Maybe I can, you know, run through the part to the bathroom, then come out the other side……. No. Maybe. No.
(thinks of the article on the Mexico Marathon where 2500 people cut the course and got caught)
Ugh. Both my feet hurt. Are they bleeding? I don’t want to know. Just keep moving.
Oh, a timing mat! See, they read the Mexico Marathon article, too. They knew I would want to cut the course to save my life. Well played, Epic Races. Well played.
Okay, keep moving. Gotta be close.
Oh, a med tent. I need medical. There is a table there. Maybe she will let me just lay down for a few minutes. No, if I stop it will be worse.
There is that yacht club place. Getting closer the that mile 8 flag.
(sees people throwing sticks to their dogs in the water)
Oh, puppies playing in the water! I wanna play with puppies! It would be more fun than this. And cooler. But they don’t give medals for puppy play time. Though, they should. I should work on that.
Holy hell my feet are on fire. I have never felt this much pain before. What the hell is the issue? THE SKATES! Those fucking roller derby skates! They have fucked up my feet! That’s it, no more skating. I will not give up running and triathlons for being wobbly on wheels. I am not good on the skates anywho. Nope. Derby is done.
Man, there are a lot of people using the race area for bike riding. I could use a bike. I won der if I can bribe someone to allow me to hitch a ride for a bit.
Okay, let’s be real. You are not going to stop Derby. But, geez! If it is the skates…..*sigh*
I feel like I am gonna pass out. Crap. Okay, you packed a protein bar in the bag. Get that from Ron. He better not have eaten it! My lord, if he did he is going to carry me, damnit!
(Second time passing Ron. Gets protein bar)
Me: “My feet hurt so bad. I don’t think I can finish this. I think I might pass out.”
Ron: “You’re doing good. Just keep going.”
(Ron starts to follow me along the course)
Me: “What are you doing?”
Ron: “Well, if you pass out I want to know where you are.”
(back to eating the protein bar)
This thing is gross. But I need to eat it. I will not make it the rest of these 4 miles unless I do.
Me: “My feet hurt so bad.”
Ron: “I know. Just breathe.”
Me: “I have never felt pain like this.”
Ron: “I know. Just breathe.”
(glares at Ron)
Me: “YOU DO NOT KNOW! AND I AM BREATHING!!!”
I think I may need to take my shoes off. I am afraid. I don’t want to stop. I need to stop. Wait. Is there a cut off time? There better not be a cut off time! But if there is, that is a good reason the stop.
Where is that second loop sign lady? I just need to get to that lady. Keep moving forward. Forward. Am I moving forward? I can’t even tell anymore.
THE LADY! Wait, what is this guy doing? (Guy who works for the race running towards me)
Dude: “How are you doing? Are you still in the race?”
No, jackass. I am crying and walking in seering feet pain because I am a masochist and enjoy the feeling of my feet feeling like they have been smashed with a sledgehammer.
Me: “Um, yep. I am moving. Not doing good, but still moving.”
Dude: “Ok, you are getting close to the cut off time.”
HE JUST SAID WHAT????!!!!?????
Me: “When is the cut off time?”
Dude: “Noon. But if you hustle I think they will wait for you.”
Hustle? Hustle. Says the guy who drove here to tell me to hustle. Dude, I will throat punch you in a snap second and beat you with my shoes.
Fifteen minutes. 1.5 miles. No way. Running, yes. But not like this. Just keep moving. Fuck that guy.
Me: “There is no way I am going to make it, but I will try.”
I could stop. My feet would thank me. No. Only 1.5 miles. I have made it this far.
This is the longest race of my life.
(Dude 2 pulls slowly beside me in a vehicle)
Dude 2: “How ya doing?”
Me: “Not good. But I am still upright.”
Dude 2: “Do you want to stop? I can give you a ride back.”
Me: “Am I close to the cut off?” (I look at my watch and it is 11:59am)
Dude 2: “I don’t think there is a cut off.”
Me: “What? Some asshat back there told me it was noon!!!”
(I make note to begin a plan of attack on Dude 1 after the race!!!)
Dude 2: “Well, I drive the truck that has all the stuff, so they are not going anywhere if I am here talking to you.”
Me: “Well, I want to finish if I can. I am almost done.”
Dude 2: “Ok. Everyone else behind you got taken in. But I will let them know you are still coming.”
Me: “Thank you.”
Ok. Pick up the pace. Yes, I know you can’t feel anything below your waist, but try.
Hey…..I have not cramped! Holy crap! Bonus!
I see that finish banner. Okay, you can do this. There are still people there. Is the time clock off? Oh, who cares. Screw my time…..just make it to the barrier there and you can run to the finish.
I have to run across the finish. Hobble. Crawl. Fuck it…..just make it across the finish.