Straight up Ass Whoppin

That's what I took this morning. I've done races with hills. I've run in bad weather conditions, both heat or rain. But when all those conditions come together in perfect harmony, along with my insistence to push myself to achieve my goals, you have a recipe for disaster. The race this morning was by far the hardest race I have ever run, and I don't say that lightly. This was the first time I ever had one of the medical staff come up to me at the finish line, as I was attempting to steady myself. For a moment or two, I really did wonder if I would pass out. But I didn't, and I survived.

I started the race out strong, and feeling good. The heat was first, with everyone sweating just standing around at the starting line. For about 2.5 miles, I stayed with the pace group, actually moving a few strides ahead of the pacer so I wasn't so surrounded by people. Then the rain started.

This wasn't just rain, it was a torrential down pour. I'm surprised we didn't hear sirens or anything. Within minutes, everything was wet. Feet felt more like lead weights, soaked with water. At one point, the course narrowed into a section about 10 feet across with barriers on each side that acted as a channel for the water. Everyone just had to grin and bare it as we ran through 2-3 inches of water with no where else to go but right through it. Still, despite that, I kept my goal going, slightly ahead of the pace runner.

Then around mile 7.5 came "The Hill". I've run a lot of hills, in fact every Sunday my run has a very big hill on it. I also live basically on the top of a huge hill, so no matter where I run around my house there are some hills to deal with. But this hill, in these conditions, and the pace I was running, was like instant death. A good portion of people around me dropped down to walks. I dug REALLY deep and finished the hill running. The pacer passed me at the top of the hill, and he was completely alone. Not a single person was still with him. I could see him ahead of me for about another mile, and then I never saw him again.

After "The Hill", I never really recovered. My body spent too much getting up that hill, and despite getting back down to my goal pace for a little while longer, I knew it wouldn't hold. The last couple miles I had nothing left, I just relied on my training to get me through, focus on one foot in front of the other. The last 3 miles were the longest miles I have ever run. I wanted nothing more but to stop running, just give up, quit, what's the point, I've got nothing left. But I didn't. One foot in front of the other. As I ran down the last length, no one ahead or behind me, I got to hear the announcer call out my name. Put my hands up in triumph and crossed the finish line.



The red line clearly shows why this was the hardest run I have ever done. I ran within a few beats of my maximum heart rate for a solid 9 miles, which means for 9 miles, I was spending every last ounce of energy my body had to give. You might have guessed, I did NOT do any additional running after this bitch. Still crazy? Definitly.