I'm in a little better shape than I was for the AFC Half in San Diego a month ago... a whole month of training better shape to be exact. I did not forget how punishing this course was. As a matter of fact, it's possible that I remember it to be worse than it actually was. Let me remind you of the race elevation:
That's an 1120ft elevation gain...and loss, but never mind that. A lot of that gain is stairs. Trail stairs. Although less so than I remember. Turns out there was also crazy hills without stairs. Who knew.
I started out way to fast for my current physical abilities. It's hard when it's super flat to begin with and you know it's going to get crazy steep. It kinda makes you want to take the fast where you can.
Right away some fast girls passed me, which didn't happen last time with the smaller and slower crowd. Although a few of them ended up falling back.
Just after the turn around at about mile 7.5, I started closing the gap between myself and a girl I met right before the race. A lot of peoples' quads give out on this route. It's pretty brutal. Up and down stairs and steep hills are just rough.
Coming down the hill towards a small stretch of soft sand (and an aid station), my left calf started to cramp up. I gasped each time it did and did somewhat of a hobble mid stride. I have never had my calf cramp during a race and I was unsure of how to handle it. I tore off my second GU that was pinned to the side of my shorts and got it ready to take it right before the aid station. Every few seconds my calf would spasm, threatening to clench into an all out cramp.
I came down the stairs to the beach right behind Claire, the girl I had met, and had been listening to a pair of footsteps behind me for the last couple miles. We spilled out onto the beach and I got right up behind her as we approached the aid station. I think she was tired of me tagging behind so close because she said something about passing her. I made a half-hearted attempt at a reply but it only came out as a grunt. I needed a few cups of water at the aid station. I took my GU and stopped at the aid station with Claire and the guy who was behind me. I drank a small cup of electrolyte beverage and one of water. I took off.
I heard a few shouts behind me, and Claire shouted "Up the hill!" I looked up and saw I was headed straight toward the ocean, the faceless voices behind me encouraged me the opposite way. Claire pulled ahead again.
Every once in awhile my calf would still spasm, and I kept trying to pull it tight by pulling my toes up so it wouldn't ball up completely. The worst part of the run was over, we had made it up the worst set of stairs.
We turned a corner and I watched Claire head up a hill I had totally forgotten coming down. As she jumped a small chasm in the path, I followed suit and remembered. Against all my most preciously held values, rules, and judgment, for the first time in possibly my entire racing career and working as a hotshot.... I whimpered out loud. I'm pretty sure Claire heard me. You just don't do that. It's wrong. Showing weakness in the middle of a race when you're right next to a competitor is just wrong. And I am ashamed.
Regardless, I completely closed the gap on Claire on that hill, left the footsteps of that guy behind and did my best to use my hill climbing ability to my advantage, and passed Claire on the way up. One thing I've learned as a hotshot, when you pass someone on the way down a hill or on the flats, that's despicable. When you pass them on the uphill, you earned that hill and you take it. I took it. And strode on.
Three more miles to go. Very little hill left. I crossed under the Golden Gate Bridge and did a minor hill- the last of the route, and down the last flight of stairs to the flat. That flat is always longer than I remember. Two more miles to go. How can it still be two more miles?
My calf spasmed for several strides in a row and I thought that was it. I was going to go down just 2 miles from the finish line. I pulled my toes up and ran rigid for a few seconds. It faded. I tried to breathe in to it. Maybe it needed more oxygen. I didn't know how far back Claire was and if she could see me stumble. I wanted to cry. I wanted it to be over. You can handle anything for two miles.
I developed that mantra during the Boston Marathon. I've never been much for mantras as I tend to be more harsh on myself and less encouraging. None of that "You can do this, you're so strong" baloney. It usually comes out something like "Suck it up and quit being a wimp!". I do have one that I use on my long runs sometimes. "Run easy". When the run gets tough and I'm almost home, part of me wants to push harder to get there sooner, but that's not the point of the run. I tell myself "Run easy" to open up my stride and get easy speed instead of putting a lot of energy into it.
I was hurting so bad during Boston, with my IT band flaring up so badly that my quad was spasming, my feet hurting from new shoes that weren't correct for my running form, and just overall pain and discomfort from not being able to train during my injury. I wasn't going to walk. You can handle anything for three miles became you can handle anything for two miles and then finally one. And then there was the finish line. After the finish line you get to stop. That's all I wanted, was to stop.
Today that was all I wanted. I wanted to be done, but running faster would risk my calf cramping up so bad that I would be done. I had to keep it from cramping until I crossed that finish line. You can handle anything for two miles.
I tried to relax my face muscles, so no one could read my misery. I wondered if Claire would stride out that last mile and pass me, wondering why I had slowed down on the flat.
I could see the finish line. It looked so far away. I looked at my gps, it was only a half mile.
So far. Ten feet would be too far.
You are not stopping until you cross that finish line.
It got closer. I managed to keep myself from whimpering out loud again, but that in itself was a struggle. I tried to relax my face again and then noticed the photographer at the finish line. I probably had not relaxed in time and a beautiful photo of me and all my misery will be available for the world to see.
I crossed two sets of timing mats. I meant to walk around for awhile, loosen up the legs. Instead I bent over with my hands on my knees. I needed water.
I hobbled to the aid station and got water and some pretzels. I collected my finishers medal and my medal for 2nd place in my division (females 30-39). I was the fourth girl overall.
Against my better judgment I also collected my free beer from the beer garden and bbq with coleslaw.
After eating for a bit and stretching out in the sun, I walked over to sit on the beach wall, enjoy the breeze and the view, and get rested up for the hour drive home.
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