Oh Everest, My Everest

Chip Time: 2:50:08
Average Pace: 12:59 min/mi

After driving 5 hours to a wedding in PA and then driving 3 hours back to MD to crash at a Holiday Inn late Saturday night, I rose reluctantly at 0500 to run in the Frederick Running Festival very early Sunday morning. Didn't sleep a lick, thanks to my vampire schedule, but I've done it before right? It's like what Shackleton used to say to his men during trying times in their Antarctic adventures: what I've done once, I can do a second time with no problem. (It was a lie when he said it, too.)

At this point, I have an apology for all the women to whom I've not shown proper sympathy during a run. I have experienced running during my special woman time before, and I never understood what was so awful about it. Sure, it was a bit uncomfortable, but not enough to complain as much as those other women seemed to do. I sure learned a lesson this week about the difference between it being your special woman time and the day (or first moments and hours) your special woman time begins. I learned because that special time came about 50 yards after I started the race, and I was not happy about it.

After suffering through two miles, I really thought I wasn't going to finish the race. I just did NOT care about anything except for crawling under a rock in the fetal position until my body decided to go back to normal. A Marine passed and encouraged me on sometime in the next mile, and I still didn't care. Well, that's not true. I cared enough to keep running until he disappeared from sight, but not enough to mentally commit to the rest of the race. I could always stop in a little while. My hands were already starting to swell up because the fluids were not staying in my bloodstream but instead having a party in all the tissue surrounding my reproductive system.

Somehow, though a series of distractions and distortions of my face, I made it to mile 6. It started to feel like a shame not to finish after going that far. I trudged through miles 7, 8 and 9. Around mile 10, the awful cramps of death returned and my swollen hands started to really hurt. I started taking extended walk breaks. By mile 12, I figured the HELL with it. I could just walk the rest of the way.

Then of course a very nice lady came up behind me and asked me to help her run the rest of the way. She said I gave her energy and I pretended I did because she was sure doing a great job of distracting me and she was a very nice lady to talk to! Nearing the fairgrounds, she thanked me and sent me off ahead of her to finish strong. Samwise appeared with some typically aggravating words of motivation shortly afterward. I gave him a kind shove and worked up to a sprint to end my suffering.

In the end, I still averaged a 13:00-min mile. It's slightly astounding to me, but I'm just trying not to think of that day too much. I'm just glad it's over. And now that I am done with my race report, I can officially let my brain bury that memory deep, deep down where I never have to think about it again!

Labels: curse of womanhood, Frederick, half marathon, race, swollen hands