After a week of sporadic training (due to moving constraints)I was partly looking forward to the scheduled 18 mile run and partly dreading it. I was looking forward to it because I knew it would be an excellent way of unloading the stress that had built up over the last few weeks due to our move. I was dreading it because I was just physically whipped after moving all those boxes and furniture- and I knew I hadn't stuck to the training schedule very well at all.
So, on the verge of a nervous breakdown, brought on by stress and lack of sleep, I leave the house Saturday morning- already 5 minutes late. Unfortunately my mind went on autopilot once I hit the road, and thanks to innumerable trips to and from the old apartment, I got on the freeway in the wrong direction. Irritating, but not unfixable. I'd just get on the next freeway going in the right direction..... Nope, missed the exit. Okay fine. Got off on a side street I knew could take me back to the right freeway. Finally made it to the right freeway and managed to make it the rest of the way without incident.
As I'm arriving at the meeting place I'm noticing something is wrong... something is VERY WRONG! There are hundreds of cars parked nearby.... and only about 10 people gathered.
I check the car clock. 7:10am (I was supposed to be there @ 7:00am)
I check the cell phone clock. 7:11am
I deparately look for somewhere to park!
I check both clocks again! 7:15am
Finally I find a space about 300yds away and park.
Gathering my things with a lightening speed, I lock the car and literally dash back to the small group at the meeting place.
"Am I that late?"
"Yeah. 6:15"
"6:15!!"
"Yeah."
Oh crap!(in my head) Don't cry. Do not cry!
After that I don't remember exactly what was said, but basically I was told to stretch and get going. The "sweepers" hadn't left yet and would keep an eye on me. And yes, the aid stations would still be open. Thank you God!
In my head as I start my run:
Don't cry! Don't cry! I can't do this! I'm going to end up walking the last 8 miles! I can't run 18 miles by myself! Don't cry! You're a grown up! Just run! So, I did. With the map folded so that I could see the part I was on and pinched loosely in my left hand, and my timer counting down 10/1s on my wrist... I just ran.
By about the end of the 1st mile I had my emotions in check once more and was my normal self, just focused on running.
After a while I began to wonder if I was lost. I knew the first aid station was usually at 3-5 miles and I was fairly certain I had gone that far. Great. Either I was lost or the Aid Station had closed before I had gotten there.
Just keep running.Here come the sweepers. Great. I haven't even made it to where the second Aid Station should be (around 7 miles). The running sweepers say hi and keep on going. The sweeper on her bike hangs out with me for about a mile and a half before riding ahead with assurances that she'll be back to check on me. I see her at the next turn and (about 5 min later) then I won't see her again until long after the next aid station- yes I said AFTER the next aid station. It was there! The second aid station was still there when I got there! AND surprisingly offered the rare treat of a power gel in addition to the regular snacks, gatorade, and water. I greatfully accepted.
I meet up with the bicycle sweeper again at the bottom of the longest, steepest hill I have ever been on in my life! I don't know how cars go up and down that street, let alone how I made it up. I'll be honest- after about 100yds, I power walked to the top. I also met up with another runner at this point- to my complete surprise. Her name is Karen and she is coming back from a recent hamstring injury- she's going VERY slow. We stay fairly close until the top of the hill when I resume running and leave her behind.
The bicycle sweeper rides ahead.
I'm alone again.
I reach the bottom of a short gentle hill and meet up again with the bicycle sweeper just long enough to confirm my reading of the map, then continue on as she waits for Karen.
Alone again.
About 20 min later the bicycle sweeper passes me by with more assurances that she'll see me again farther down the path.
I finally make it to Aid Station 3 and they are in the process of tearing down. I call out that I'm coming over (they're across the street), then I grab a couple glasses of gatorade (no snacks or salt at this station). I've realized that I forgot to take my salt at the start of the run. I thank them and tell them that Karen is still coming, then resume my run.
As I run I remember that I might have salt in my pouch from a previous run. Then I realize that I forgot to refill my bottle at the Aid Station- I only have about 2oz left. Spanish Landing is coming up- the location of previous runs- I know there's a water fountain there as well as bathrooms.
When I make it there I use the bathroom, check my pouch
YES I have salt!, and fill my bottle with water from the fountain before continuing on.
At Laurel St. I find Aid Sation #4. I finally remember to ask how far I've come. The answer: 10.7 miles! More than half way!
Yippee! Even better, I suddenly see Lisa! My regular running mate!
Awesome! I must be closer than I thought! .....
Yes, and no. I'm only 20 minutes behind (rather than the 50-60 I thought), but Lisa's been injured and is waiting for a ride.
That sucks! The bicycle sweeper was there as well. She asked if I'd seen Karen. When I said that I hadn't she turned back the way I'd come to go find Karen. That would be the last time I saw the bicycle sweeper.
I drink a couple glasses of lemonade and through down snacks I don't remember now (probably Cheeze-Its) then grab a licorice (something I'd normally pass up) and get on my way.
About a block away I suddenly realize that I forgot to fill up my bottle again and contemplate turning back. Glancing at my bottle I see that it is still 80% full and a look at the map shows the next Aid Station isn't too far away... I just hope it's still there when I get there. I decide to move on.
Half way up Laurel I use part of my precious gatorade/water bottle to get down the power gel- not a pleasant experience, but it makes a big difference in my energy stores.
Coming down 6th street along the edge of Balboa Park I finally spot another bathroom. (If you've ever run distance you know how physically painful it can be to wait for a bathroom!) I dash across the street and just as I'm about to enter the bathroom, I notice a man watching me with his periferal vision and standing near the bathrooms with no apparent purpose. I hesitate at the entrance, peer around the corner at the man who has not moved and reluctantly decide it's not worth the risk. I keep running.
Once again I spot the Aid Station just as it's being shut down. I call out again and dash across the street. They kindly refill my bottle for me while I down a cup of gatorade and grab a power bar. (bathroom needs or not, I can't run on empty!)
Praise the Lord! I soon see a Jack N The Box with a very visible bathroom! I have to wait for the current occupant to leave, but I'm in and out and back on the road in less than 5 minutes.
More little side streets through residential areas, and just when I think I've run past where Aid Station #6 should have been but wasn't... there it is! I shove down a few pretzels, down a couple glasses of Gatorade and keep going.
The next big hurdle is actually a down hill. I had NO IDEA going down hill could HURT SO BAD!!! Never before have I prayed for a hill to STOP going down!! I couldn't wait for it to flatten out but it seemed to take forever! Finally it did, however, and I found myself in Old Town. By this point, however, I could care less.
Suddenly it hits me. In my haste to get going I'd forgotten to stretch my Tband muscle- the one that always hurts the worst after these long runs. Great. Oh well. Better late than never. I stop and stretch for about a minute, then continue on.
There it is! The last Aid Station! I'm almost done! As I approach I see that one of the running sweepers is there waiting with me. After I drink a glass of gatorade and top off my bottle, she runs back the rest of the way with me.
By this point I'm really hurting. That downhill just did me in physically. EVERYTHING hurts and I'm not moving especially fast, but I'm not walking either. It's a good thing the sweeper waited for me or I promise you, I WOULD HAVE been walking at least 1 of those last 2 miles! I had to make a conscious effort not to vocalize my pain. I lived for the moment my watch said it was time for me to walk again! By the time I made it to the finish mark I could barely walk and had never wanted to sit down so bad in my life! Fortunately my high school track training held me strong and I stayed moving. I knew sitting was the absolutely wrong thing to do, so I just kept putting one foot in front of the other, but I could no longer keep from groaning with each movement. I kept reminding myself that labor had hurt more than what I was experiencing and that I'd made it through that. I could do this. I could make it the last 1/4 mile to the meeting place.
About half way there the running sweeper who'd waited for me went on ahead, but not before telling me that she'd expected me to ask for a ride back well before the end. She said that she would have done so herself- and I know this woman to push pretty hard. She also told me that that day's course had been chosen by the San Diego Track Club whom we'd joined with for the day and was more difficult than the marathon would be because of the hills which had been included.
I must have looked pretty pathetic because not just one mentor but also the head coach came out to me as I came nearer to the meeting place. I assured them that I was not injured, just VERY tight. The head coach reiterated that today's course was more difficult than the marathon would be and prescribed a cool shower/bath, a walk later that afternoon (like it or not), and a tennis ball for my foot.
Half an hour or so later, after lots of stretching and relaxing, I finally felt ready to drive home. Then I remembered. I'd driven the stick-shift car this morning!
