As you might remember, back in September Steve and I signed up for a 5K race and I totally failed it. It was close to 100 degrees that day, I was apparently dehydrated, and I managed to get heat exhaustion not even halfway through it so I had to stop. It sucked, man, and I was very upset with myself for not finishing.
It wasn't long after that, that the same racing outfit decided that it had been so popular that they needed to have another race at the same location in November, and in a burst of inspiration, Steve decided that I should redo the race so that I could finally finish it and not have it hanging over my head anymore. So he signed both of us up for it. He told me that this time he would stay with me the whole time and make sure I finished it. He is a much faster runner than I am, and I knew that meant I'd be holding him back (which I wasn't thrilled about) but I mean, I genuinely thought that was a very sweet thought and gesture, so I agreed.
I wasn't thrilled at the prospect, though. Almost falling out at the earlier race had actually scared me a lot more than I had realized at the time. I don't usually get dizzy and fainty like that, and the experience had really unsettled me. Knowing Steve would be with me on the course helped, but also knowing that it could happen again (maybe not the heat exhaustion since it was in November) made me afraid of trying.
In the meantime, I signed up for and ran/walked another 5K in October. There is a big to do here about breast cancer research, and there is a race every year to benefit the charity that Steve's company does. I was afraid that I wouldn't finish that race either, but I did manage to do it. I couldn't run very much, though. I can't seem to catch my breath enough to run anymore. I also realized that a big part of my anxiety stems from the fact that I can't seem to BREATHE enough! Ugh, I hate that feeling so very much. Anyway, I made it through that, which helped, but the closer I got to the November race, the more anxious I became.
Y'all, I literally had nightmares the night before this race. Like, stupid ones. I dreamed I went to the bathroom and ended up starting the race 10 minutes late, then found out the race was more like an obstacle course and I had to figure out these weird puzzles before I could advance to the next part. Then when I got to the final leg of the race (everyone was on roller skates by this point) I couldn't figure out which way to run, and I couldn't find the roller skates. I finally started yelling at the judges (?) and started saying that I couldn't find the skates, and one of them removed a hidden panel on the wall to uncover the skates. I started screaming "HOW THE F*CK WAS I SUPPOSED TO FIND THEM IF THEY WERE IN THE WALL????!!!!" only to then be told the race was over and I wasn't going to be allowed to finish at all. That's about the time I work up and realized that I was taking the whole thing WAY too seriously. Hehe.
We had to leave the house at the crack of dawn to get to the state park and it was absolutely pouring down rain the entire time. I hoped that it would stop by the time we got there, but alas, I was disappointed. The second I stepped out of the car, I sank into an ankle deep puddle. So, out of the gate I had wet feet. Somehow, defying physics and hydrodynamics as I understand them, water was running and standing everywhere regardless of elevation, incline, surface, and grade. Seriously, there was no place to make a path. You had to just walk through water no matter where you stepped. We found a small tent near packet pick up, and that sheltered us a little, but we were already soaked from walking there. We finally decided that we should just stand out in the rain to acclimatize us to it. That sucked.
The 15K runners left 15 minutes before we did, and we finally got to start on the trail. Oh, did I mention that this was a trail race? Yeah. I can't run on pavement, but we were going to be in the woods and shit. Nice. Once we started I was able to run a little, but then my breath seized up and I had to stop and walk. Steve was as good as his word, though. He stayed by me even when I had a mild panic attack as we were walking. I broke through that, and finally found my stride. Fast walking in the gentle rain wasn't so bad. However, about the time we reached the next trailhead, the bottom fell out and I couldn't see. Steve had to pull me into the tree cover before I could open both eyes again (I was afraid my contacts would wash out.) Oh, and that trail was a special kind of hell. I don't know how, on the side of a freaking mountain, you can have standing shin high water, but it happened. Mud sucked at our shoes as we stomped our way down the trail, trying to find purchase and not slip on any rocks. Steve was ahead of me, but I managed to keep up if only because I wanted out of that trail so badly. I twisted my ankle three times, almost lost my shoe, and said several curse words before we made it out of the woods. I had nature all over me and I was unhappy.
The rest of the race was mostly on paved paths, except for some reason we had to go across a field. It was mostly underwater, so that cleaned some of the mud off at least. The big hill that got me last time was cut from the race, but we still had to go up a fairly steep service road before we finally made it to the cave! It was here that I screwed up a little.
The race is weird because there are people going both ways on the walkway inside the cave. Directions are that we are supposed to stay to our left, no matter which way we are running, so no one runs into each other. There were two pathways into the cave, one on the left and one on the right, but I saw the people in front of us run to the path on the right and stay to the left of that path. Does that make sense? Steve directed me to the left path and no one was on it, so I said I didn't think we were going the right way. Heh, damn, this is confusing. He swore that we were in the correct place, but for some reason he listened to me and we joined the other (right) path and headed in. In about a minute, I realized he had been right all along because I hit the timing mat going the wrong way and saw the clock register my name and a time that defied anything I could have actually done. Well, crap. Also, just after that a guy saw us and said we were going the wrong way, and Steve said we were following everyone else. The guy said "Don't Follow Anyone Else!" Wow, thanks guy. Glad you were standing halfway in the cave to tell us that. Ugh. At any rate, I got to the back, got my glow stick (proof you went all the way in) and made it out and got my medal! Woo-Hoo! I actually finished the race in 1:07:43:12, but the official stats say I finished in 42:02:17. Going the wrong way on the course is the only way I'd ever get a time like that. I feel like I should tell them my time is wrong so that the rankings will not be skewed, but I don't know if it matters that much. Hehe, it feels like stolen valor, though!
I was so glad it was over when I got out of the cave. Everything hurt and I was soaking wet, and I realized in that moment that no matter how much I wish I was good at running, I don't think I ever will be. I know I could spend every free moment running and working up to things and getting better, but it would take more work that I think I want to put into it. I mean, I could beat my body into submission, but would it make me hate running? I like running, I wish I was better, I like crossing finish lines, but I don't know if I want it bad enough to make it my hobby, and I think I would have to. Granted, I know that the shape I am in now (which is round. Round is a shape) I need to be doing something, but I don't know if running is the thing I want to do. That makes me a little sad, but I'll figure something out, I hope. We'll see.
Oh, and there are photos from this race, but I will never, ever show them to anyone. First off, the pink and gray ensemble that I chose for the occasion was a bad choice. I looked like a giant, wet, morbidly obese, raw turkey wearing muddy shoes. My hair was pulled back so tight that it looked like I was bald underneath my wide hair band, and worse....oh worse... Forgive me for being crude, but nipples. I was cold, and my sports bra was apparently no match for my headlights. Every single picture of me prominently displays them, and trust me, it isn't cute. I am going to keep the photos though, so I can look at them and remember that day, but only so I can laugh. Hehe.
All of the unplesantness aside, I did finish the race, and I'm proud of that! Even if Steve had to be my seeing eye person, and sometimes pull me up a hill. I might be undignified, but I am a finisher this time. Since that Saturday I've been sore, exhausted, and realized just how out of shape I have become, but damnit, I finished my race!
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