Missoula and a Dose of Humility

I woke up at 3:58 am.  Exactly 3 minutes before my alarm went off.  Automatically I shut off the alarm so it wouldn’t wake my mom, even though I knew she’d be up as soon as I took that first step out of bed.  Despite the fact that I was sleeping in a hotel and had only gotten about 4-5 hours of sleep, I felt rested.  Since my brain doesn’t work this early in the morning, I was thankful I’d had the foresight to lay out my clothes the night before and headed to the bathroom to get dressed. 

I still can’t decide which is worse: having to eat at 4:15 am or run 13.1 miles.  It’s seriously a toss-up.   But having just done a race under fueled, the brain kicked in and I shoveled in the oatmeal until I thought I’d be sick.  Then it was back to basics.  Body glide everywhere that chafes.  Tape up my right foot and shin.  Tie up my shoes.  Ipod and Gu?  Check.  Even at 4:30 am, there is something reassuring about the routine.  Doing the things you’ve done hundreds of times before, this time you’re just adding a race bib.

The best mom in the world drove me across town at 4:45 am to drop me off at the busses to be shuttled to the start.  “See you around 8 to 8:10ish” I said as I hopped out of the car.  My brain was finally starting to clear and wake up and get excited as thousands of runners are out and about waiting to catch the shuttle.  I of course picked the open seat on the bus next to the cute guy.  It was his first ever half marathon.  I found myself amazed at how upbeat, cheerful and chatty everyone was this early in the morning.  The sun wasn’t even up yet.  It’s hard not to be excited when surrounded by other runners before a race.  The sane part of my brain was asking what in the hell I was doing on a bus at 5am to go run 13 miles.

The time between getting to the start and the gun, or cannon in this instance, going off is the worst for me.  I killed time by standing in porta potty lines (they have Sweet Peas, not Honey Buckets) and chatting with other runners.  Finally it was time to start lining up.  The cannon and fireworks went off at 6am sharp.  The sun wouldn’t come up for another 15 minutes.  The first three miles were some of the most scenic I’d ever run.  We followed a river and were told to keep our eyes open for moose.  Then the sun started to rise above the mountains.  Despite the pain yet to come, it was worth it simply to be running at dawn in Montana.

The first six miles of my race were great.  I hadn’t felt that good running in a while and was holding 9:15’s.  Unfortunately, the race was not a 10K.  Mile 7 was okay and then all hell broke loose by mile 9.  Here is where I started to feel the under training due to injuries, the injuries themselves and the cold I’d contracted while in Montana.  Here is where the race is more mental than physical, your brain is more important than your legs.  Here is where it hurts.  Here is where its gut check time.  Here is where you realize this isn’t going to be the race you wanted to run.  That instead you’re just going to finish.  Here is where the running gods teach you a lesson in humility.  I expected it to hurt.  But expecting and experiencing are two different things.

Miles 12 and 13 were two of the longest in my life.  To be so close yet not have the ability to go faster to be done.  To just be holding on for dear life.  The last 0.1 mile felt pretty good though.  Nothing feels quite as good after a challenging run to turn that last corner and see the finish line.

Despite the race not being what I imagined it to be when I signed up, I learned a few things.  I fueled much better for this race than the last one.  Since fueling is something I struggle with for long runs, this was some good information to acquire.  I learned that I can run 13 miles undertrained, I can gut out five grueling miles.  There is something to knowing what your body is capable of doing on sheer guts if you ask it to.

It wasn’t my perfect race but I got to run in Montana.  In the sunshine.  My first half that wasn’t in the rain!  And I want a rematch with that course.  Someday when I’m healthy, that course is prime for giving me a PR.