2020, you bitch.
As I sit here and choke on my water, because a loud commercial just startled me, it did occur that 2020 was supposed to be my most epic race year yet. I had plans to train for the Pittsburgh half marathon and 5K Steel Challenge, the Liberty Mile, The Great Race, some other race I can’t remember right now, and, I hoped, a few more races. I was going to PR my half marathon, I told myself, and it was going to be a great year. Because, lets be honest, the 2019 half marathon cramp fest was a disaster and nothing could be worse than having cramped legs starting at like, mile 3 to the end, in the cold and perpetual rain. Ankle to butt. Nothing’s worse than that.
Ha.
Long story short, all those races were cancelled and we all stayed inside for like, eighteen months. Judging by how tight my jeans are these days–
–Hahahaha, wait, lets try that sentence again. Let’s not pretend I’m wearing jeans on a daily basis.
Ahem. Anyway, so, judging by the way my yoga pants fit these days, I’m out of shape. Or, maybe I’m Covid shaped, Idk. I haven’t done a lot of running since, oh, let’s say fall of 2020. Apparently when you stop running for longer than thirty-one hours, your body completely forgets how to run. I mean, look, I realize that I managed to break my ankle falling off the side of a flat road and, yeah, that maybe have set me back a bit, but I was ready. UNTIL I sat my way through 2020 and the first eight months of 2021.
So, when there was a local charity fundraiser being held–a 5K run/walk and a 10K bike ride–of course I signed up! I’m a runner. I got this. Easy day. And I knew that I hadn’t been doing much running. The Hubs and I had been hiking instead of running, but that’s physical activity. Motion. Mooooovement. Still, I planned on running every day up until the race….which was you know, like two weeks away because I waited until the last minute possible to sign up. Heather with a plan. Dangerous!
Of those fourteen or so days I had prior to the race, guess how many of those days I ran. Three guesses and the first two don’t count.
Once. I ran one time and then just….think of it this way. My spare time is like a bunch of butterflies. Just when I’m ready to do something that isn’t a responsibility, all that time just floats away. Whooosh. And gone.
But, that’s okay. It’s still doable. Even though, it’ll be like the first time running all over again because I’m the oldest I’ve ever been and my bones aren’t pleased with the idea of being all jostled around when I run.
“You could always walk.” The Hubs said.
“No. I got this.” I said. And I even did some fundraising!
The day of the race came and, of course, it had been warm and wonderful in the mornings, until the race day–which was the day after a huge rainstorm. No worries, I have all kinds of running gear. Layers for the win. I think it was 48 degrees when The Hubs dropped me off and, let me tell you, I am awkward when I’m by myself at a race. I awkwardly stood in line waiting to get my t-shirt. Awkward picking up my bib. Awkward trying to put on my bib.
There was no place to store my bag and my t-shirt, so I had to call The Hubs to come back to the race and pick it up for me. Because, you know, having previously broken my ankle falling off THE ROAD, I didn’t want to tempt fate by trying to carry a giant bag while running.
The Hubs said, “Do you want to just come home now? You turned in your money. You got your shirt.”
And I thought about it. Boy did that tempt me. And when I say tempt me, I mean tempt me like “Hey, I have your favorite pizza right here, do you want a piece?” I DO I ALWAYS DO.
Anyway. I declined and literally stood there and watched him drive down the road. Going home. Prepping grapes to make homemade jam–which I wasn’t exactly enthused to do, but I also wasn’t feeling that thrilled at the idea of running. My pastor found me awkwardly standing by a rock and we chatted. He was going to ride his bike for the 10K. He said, “The beginning of the course is really hilly, but it eventually evens out.”
“That’s okay.” I said, as much to convince me as convince him. “I’m from Pittsburgh and it’s all hills there.”
And when it was finally time to line up at the start, I heard a big burly guy say, “I need to be near the back, because I’m a slow runner” I thought, oh good, my people! I can just drift along behind them and maintain pace.
They wanted us to line up with fast runners in the front, slow runners in the back, and people walking in the back, back. Cool. So, I got behind the big, burly guy. I heard a guy in a red shirt say, “I’ll probably run for a little, but I haven’t run in like, two years, so I’m out of shape.”
Yes. Yes, this is my spot. My people.
The bikers were LONG GONE by this point. After a few more minutes of waiting, there was a hearty “Ready…set…go!”
And every single person in front of me–INCLUDING THE BURLY “I’M A SLOW RUNNER” GUY–took off like a shot. Like, literally sprinting down the path. I think this is where I made my biggest mistake (well, biggest after only running one time prior to the race): I started running faster than my normal pace. So, basically, I wasted all the gas in my tank before the starting line was even out of sight.
Now, remember that little conversation I had with my pastor? Yeah. He wasn’t kidding. Usually, I do some run/walk/run/walk and my plan was to walk up hills and run down them. Which would have been great, but I swear: there were no down hills! It was just like, up up up, kinda flat, up up up up. How can there be no downhills?????
It was at this point I really questioned why I didn’t get in the car and leave when I could have. Because this was nuts.
I was the only runner. I’d kept up with a guy who had a big, military ruck sack strapped to his back, but eventually, I was like, no. I’m walking.
Special shout out to the volunteer to said to me, “Yeah, Momma, you got this!” I did not, however, got this. I even tried like, a jaunty mall walker speed, but my legs cramped up. This was my first race as a 39 year old and I was like, is this what 39 feels like? Leg cramps and an aversion to sunlight? Have I just been inside so long that I’m slowly morphing into a couch or something?
I got to a small park where an elderly man was walking a very disgruntled little dog and I thought, you know, I could just quit. I could stop now, call The Hubs, and have him pick me up. There was like, a mile left. I forced myself to keep going. I didn’t even run when the finish line was in sight–yeah, literally five people and a guy dressed like a T-Rex watched me casually stroll across the finish line.
I pulled my phone out to shut my running app off and saw The Hubs had texted. He was here, waiting to pick me up. I walked right past the food tent, to the car, and when home.
And took a two hour nap.
Ick, that was the worst race ever. Though on a surprising footnote, when the race results were posted, I was NOT the last runner to finish. I was three up from the bottom but not last. A small victory!
I think I might be hanging up my running shoes and lacing up my hiking boots instead. Because yikes, that was awful. But, I finished. I didn’t quit. And I can’t wait to see what I’m sure will be hilariously bad pictures of me from the race course. I’ll keep you updated. We can giggle together.