Monday, November 13, 2006

Gone with the Wind

Finished. That's what I did and that's about it. Kiss all the goals and fanfare goodbye. But at least I finished. I didn't really want to at many points, but I did it anyway.

As you can probably tell by the opening tone, all of my bright ideas about the OBX Marathon went down the drain. Just like last year's Chickamauga race, I had a great weekend with friends, but the race was a bust.

I'd been monitoring the race weather for more than a week in advance. Each day the weather indicated something new and different for the race day climate. One day it was to be sunny and cool while the next day forecasted warmer temperatures. However, in the final days closing to the race, all signs pointed to rain. I had anticipated oceanfront winds, but the rain added insult to injury. At one point thunderstorms were indicated, but never materialized.

We left Georgia Friday afternoon after a long delay in the airport. Our plane was late. They couldn't find a crew. When they found a crew, they discovered the plane was too hot and that it had to be hooked up to another plane to cool it down. Then we boarded an absurdly hot small plane only to discover that we hadn't been fueled yet. So we waited for fuel. An hour and a half after our intended departure, we left. The only other signficant part of this trip was upon arriving at the rental house, we discovered it had been left a nasty mess by the previous occupants. No effort had been made to clean; the counters were littered with crumbs and the floors were sticky and crumby. Yuck.

Saturday at the Outer Banks was gorgeous weather: sunshine, mid-70s, and a light breeze. I did an easy two mile jitter jog in the morning and tried to do as little as possible for the rest of the day. We met up with running buddy and family, picked up race packets, drove through some of the course and ate lunch. Later in the day shopped to prepare our pre-race dinner at the rental house. Upon arriving back at the house, I recalled that we'd forgotten cooking oil. The bottle of canola oil in the cupboard was not what I had envisioned for this perfect pre-race meal. So husband relented and went out to buy the olive oil I'd dreamed of. Arriving back, husband entered the house with a K-Mart bag chuckling. In the bag: six emergency rain ponchos (glorified trash bags with hoods) and a bottle of olive oil. If he'd added some Tucks to the mix, I'm sure he'd of gotten some really odd looks.

My typical pre-race routine of not sleeping the night before was exactly how it always is. I get a couple of hours of sleep, that's all. I awoke and downed 60 oz. of Gatorade and ate a Power Bar. While in the shower, the smoke alarm just outside the bathroom went off. Then it stopped. Then it started again. It's about 4:30 a.m. I'm in the shower, rinsing my hair, and the horrible beep of a smoke alarm litters the morning quiet. I hop out of the shower, dripping wet, and I'm naked in the hall waving my towel at the smoke detector trying to get the stupid thing to turn off. Then husband stumbles out bleary-eyed and is ready to beat the detector into submission. Stupid smoke detector.

Husband later drops me off at the start of the race. I get in the portajohn immediately, relieve myself, then immediately get in the portajohn line again. This adventure essentially consumed the entire hour prior to the race. I hooked up with running buddy at our assigned location. We lined up in the 9 min./mile pace area. Before we knew it, we were running. In the first mile or so, we noticed a Powerbar on the road on our path. A tenth of a mile later, a GU. A man just in front of us had some wasteband type holder on, and another GU dropped from his presence. He was wearing headphones, but I said "Dude, you lost your GU." No response from him, so I said it louder. No response. Finally, I tapped his elbow and said "Dude, you lost your GU. "

I lost running buddy before mile three, when she went along at her pace. I was holding on pretty well until the wooded section of trails, when I had absolutely no idea what my pace was. When I hit mile 12, I knew I was pretty off. When I hit the half in around 2:04, I knew that breaking four hours was out of reach. Then the rains came. It poured. It was windy. By mile 15 or so, I was not happy. By 16, I wanted to give up. There were many times when I thought I'd just hop in the car with husband and say forget it. I wasn't really hurting, but since I'd missed my mark and the weather was so miserable, I didn't give a crap. I started walking here and there. I walked when I saw husband. I ran with a few people. Husband even ran with me for about a tenth of a mile. I walked a lot. I walk from about mile 25 until I was about 1/2 mile away from the finish. During some of walking I shed a few tears. I'm just so dissappointed with myself that I can't even describe it. I gave up on myself. Upon seeing running buddy I cried. Husband put his arm around me and I cried. I'm so embarressed that I won't even put the time into this post. I can chalk it up to many "excuses:" rain, wind, humidity, etc. However, I just didn't do it. I gave in, but at least I didn't completely give up and hop in the car, for as tempting as it was.

I'm not really certain what went wrong. I'd fueled well the day before, but I hadn't slept. It was crappy weather. Just like Chickamauga last year, it didn't feel "easy" at first like it had during successful races like Knoxville. How do I get the easy feeling back? I'm torn between getting back on the horse and trying a January race, or saying "forget it, give it a rest already, you're not built for this marathoning thing."

I had a great time with running buddy and her family, as well as my husband. Unbelievably, he continues to support me, despite my quest for perfection in things being "just so," despite the crazy ramblings about Dean Karnazes' well-muscled legs, despite the on-going obsession and never-ending talk of running, despite warping our schedules and dinner times around my running, despite my unsuccessful marathons and continued wallowing in self-pity, despite all of my failings. When these things happen, I realize I may not be the best runner, but I do have the best husband.

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