Recovering

Hey, here I am, breaking the tape!

OK, actually, no. Imagine someone much older and not nearly that happy.

It's all over except the groaning every time I have to use my quads for anything, and an occasional bout of nausea. I always like to check back at the things I was afraid of and see how many of them came to pass, so without further ado:

Well, I didn't oversleep. As if. I was too wound up to sleep much at all, so when the alarm went off at 4 AM, I was not happy. But I was awake. I got to the starting line in plenty of time. And yes, I was cold. Dawn found me huddled on the steps of one of the buildings near the starting line, reading "The Stranger" in the porch light. Trying to, anyway, what with shivering and all. One guy had brought a space blanket with him and was curled up on the grass, catching a blissful 40 winks before it was time to start. I envied him and would have joined him if I thought he would have tolerated such shocking behavior. Next time (if there is a next time), I'll do that. Bring a blanket, I mean.

It was a good thing I got in the Porta-John line about 40 minutes before the start, as I needed almost all that time for it to be my turn. Plenty of time to stand in a queue, looking at everyone else and getting psyched out. Yes, Sue Sun, some trendy ladies were wearing the running skirts. I'm with you - those are damn cute. Almost everyone wears better running clothes than I do: old gray sweats and ratty t-shirts. I also noticed that Asics outnumbered Nike Max Air, Bowerman Series by a long shot! This caused a wave of self-doubt - a crisis of faith in my lucky brand.

Did I flout the rules and wear my iPod? Uh...that would be, yes, along with everyone else... No time to get an arm-band, though. No time to sync, either. To steal from Donald Rumsfeld, I went to the race with the music I had. It was a beautiful day (not snowing, thank God); but the wind from the south was BRUTAL. A huge front was blowing in, hard enough to make my paper number go THWAP, THWAP, THWAP on my chest and blow the ear buds out of my ears.

It was very interesting to run a long race like this. If any of you run (or do other exhausting, crazy things), you may recognize some of these phases.

Miles 0-2: These are the "WTF miles". As in, "This is nuts! Why am I here? Why are all these other people here?" and "Why can't I get my pace right?" It took a while for me to stop doing everyone else's pace instead of my own. I'd be running too fast, 'cause the guy in front of me was. Or I'd suddenly find myself smack up against some speed-walking woman, with her elbows flying everywhere. After a couple miles though, the crowd thinned and I remembered to pay attention to what I was doing.

Miles 2-8: This is fun! Look at me! This is easy!

Miles 8-9: This will end. In another hour, I will be standing still. That will feel good.

Mile 10: At Mile 10, the route follows the same route that the 5K used earlier. It's pretty rough, psychologically, to reach the 10-mile point and realize that you still have to run a f***ing 5K. Things started irritating me. The cross-wind was harsh, and my hair was starting to come out of its pony-tail and blow into my mouth, but I couldn't stop to fix it. My iPod became inexplicably annoying. I stifled a sudden urge to rip it off and throw it away. It reminded me of how I felt when I was in labor: raging desire to do things like tear off my hospital gown (which I did) or gouge my husband's eyes out (no, but it was a close call).

Mile 11: If there was a "hit-the-wall" moment for me, this was it. I got a belly cramp that I had trouble coping with. When I get a stitch low down by my hip-bone and to the side, I can ignore it. This one was up high under my ribs. "'Scuse me, belly, but my lungs need that space right now..." I blame hydration. I mean, I guess we have to drink while we do this, but my stomach did not want me to toss paper cups of cold liquid into it, and got pretty pissed off. I kept telling myself that I should stop and walk for a little bit; but I thought about Dive's and Super Hero's advice to keep going and run through it. Thanks guys. You got me past Mile 11.

Miles 12-13: I don't remember them. Except I was looking at the cops who were managing the road closures and thinking, "What are you smiling about, punk?"

The last 300 yards or so are in the Gateway, which is an outdoor shopping center. It was jammed with shouting spectators, which does kind of lift a person's spirits. I managed to kick it up a little at the very end. They have these very amusing volunteers at the finish line. Their job is to smile sweetly, catch you as you cross the line and check that you aren't going to die. A cheery woman grabbed me and said something like, "You did it! Are you feeling all right? Do you need anything? Water? Ice?" "No, thanks. I'm OK. I just need to take off my timing chip." "OK, go right this way." She let go of me and I immediately walked into the barrier. She grabbed me by the hips and steered me in the right direction.

So, that was it. I didn't puke, I didn't pass out, I didn't see people I knew, I didn't walk.

When I crossed the finish line, the clock above me said 2 hours and 15 minutes. My own time will be different, since I didn't cross the starting line for 5 minutes or so after the clock started. I like to start well back in the pack. Do I also get to subtract the time I spent at Mile 6 waiting for a turn to pee? Damn the hydration again! The Porta-John lines there were about 8 minutes. My time isn't posted, yet; but I'm calling it 2 hours, 2 minutes. Not bad for an old lady.

Oh, and one last thing. GU is nasty! Gross! Two little nips of that stuff and I thought, gack! No way.