I had to get up at 4:15 in the morning. If you follow my blogs, you must know that this is an absolutely ridiculous concept for me; I am definitely not a morning person. But, I had good reason…(or maybe not such a good reason…) I was running in the Detoit Freep International Half Marathon. It was to be my second go at this race and I was full of doubt. I wanted to beat my time from last year (2 hours, 16 minutes, and some seconds), but wasn’t confident that I would. I had put the miles in, but my training on hills and speedwork was definitely lacking. I checked the weatherchannel. 42 degrees, mostly sunny skies and…gasp! 92% humidity! AAAHHH! My worst nightmare. Even though it was cool and the skies were clear, I have a really hard time running in humidity. I tried not to think about it as I ate my traditional pre-race meal and got ready to head downtown.
I was lucky to start off my race with one of my running partners and her sister. They were faster than me, and I knew I would push harder if I kept pace with them. I was able to keep up with them until we were in Canada around mile 5, which was when I needed to take water at the fluid station, but they kept running. I thought I could catch up to them, but it never happened; it was the last I saw them on the course. The Ambassador Bridge climb was tough…but I had them to help me keep going. After mile 5, I was all on my own. And, I mean that. I run head-phone free during races. I don’t really know why. I train with my ipod and music, but when I’m racing, I like to be on my own. I focus. It’s all about me and how hard I can push myself. No distractions; no comfort items; just me, the road and my will.
By mile 8, I was feeling tired, which wasn’t good because I was entering the Detroit-Windsor Tunnel. Being the world’s only under water mile on a marathon course, it’s an exciting feature of the race. It wasn’t as warm and crowded as last year, which I was thankful for, but the downhill descent was much steeper than I had remembered. I took advantage and ran faster, letting gravity work in my favor, but I knew I’d be in for trouble when I made the upward climb around the half-way point. My breathing became very labored and with the high humidity and the fact that I was, literally under water, I began to play head games with myself. I have allergy-induced asthma (which is horrible at this time of year) but rarely use my inhaler anymore unless I’m outside running through the leaves or damp weather. I carry it with me to races just for emergency purposes. It was during this half-way point of the stuffy, humid uphill climb in the tunnel that I pulled out my inahaler and took a gulp from it. Walking and trying to catch my breath, I felt utterly defeated at this point. I couldn’t believe how tired I was. Eventually I began running again, and made it out of the tunnel and back into the USA. I had forgotten how hilly the course was. A lot of the streets were flat, but there were entrance ramps and overpasses to run up, and let’s not forget that long, sloping climb up the ambassador bridge at mile 3 and the tunnel at mile 8… This course was kicking my butt. It was ironic that just around this time, I saw a kid sporting a sign that said, "May the Course Be With You." (It was my favorite sign of the day, by the way.)
Thankfully, there were bands and DJs along the course, which helped break up the monotony of the run. Around mile 9 or 10, I ran past a DJ that was playing “Eye of the Tiger.” I instantly started smiling because I thought of the message my friend sent to me. Rocky! Yeahhh! It was a short-lived burst of energy though. As the music faded into the distance, so did my powerful stride. I slowed down and felt tired all over again.
When I finished mile 10, someone near me was talking to their running buddy and I overheard them say, “Just a 5K left to run.” Uuuuggghhh. I cringed. (Insert whiney voice here): I was so beat, and my hips were so sore, and I still had to run a 5K!?!? (That’s 3.1 miles). For some reason, I had been running in a fog for a while and those words hit home…like a huge heavy anvil dropping on my feet. I just didn't have it in me to run fast for another 3.1 miles! And then, just when I was feeling at my lowest point, it happened.
The pain.
The blinding, searing, cramping pain on the outside of my left foot that I thought was the worst Charlie Horse I had ever experienced. It radiated into my calf and I was forced to walk. I even had to stop and flex my foot for a few seconds to alleviate some of the ache. I continued walking and tried to convince myself that it didn’t hurt. Then, I became angry at myself. I was infuriated that this stupid pain was making me slow down even more than I already had these last few miles. Pain is only temporary, Julie, I thought. It’s a cramp. Push through. You have less than 3 miles to go. Suck it up and don’t be a baby. You can run a measly 3 miles... GO!
So, began to run again…slowly…and I almost yelled in pain. I grumbled inwardly because the only words I wanted to shout were swear words that no lady should scream; especially not in front of spectators. And let me tell you, there were a lot of spectators! I labored through miles 11 and 12 and thought I’d never see the mile marker. At mile 12.5 I saw my family; my brother, his wife, my sister and her husband were all there cheering for me. I heard my little brother yell, “You can do it! Just a half-mile to go!”
I lost it. I don’t know why, but for some reason, I began to bawl like a baby. Gasping and choking for air, tears slid down my face. I couldn’t breathe. I was almost done, but I was in so much pain. Perhaps it was just exhaustion from the high energy, overly emotional and adrenaline-filled day that I had just gone through…perhaps I was ready to quit, but knew I was too close to do so. My own stubborn competitiveness was at war inside the two halves of myself. The half that wanted to just keep walking, and simply finish, and the half that refused to give up and give in. The support from my family and their encouraging words gave me the last fighting push that I needed. I shook myself out of it, gritted my teeth and pushed harder. Last. Half-mile. You can do this!
I began to run harder, focusing on pushing my elbows back and breathing. I told myself, “Forget about your feet, just push your arms, breathe. Your legs will follow. Your feet will follow. Your arms and legs will do the work, don’t think about your foot...Almost to the finish… RUN WITH YOUR GUTS.”
I sprinted that last tenth of a mile. I had to. I always have to. It’s a race, not a training run, not something to do, just because I can. It’s a race. It’s time to make the training I had done worthwhile. Final moments, final glory.
I ran across the finish line and slowed to a walk. I happily got my medal handed to me by one of the awesome volunteers, and then started my slow walk towards the space blankets and food. And then, the throbbing, aching pain in my foot screamed out again at me, reminding me that although it gave me a half-mile reprieve, it was not to be forgotten.
It was a sweet and salty victory. Sweet, because I dug deeper inside myself than I have ever had to go to push my body to its limits. It was salty, because I was 3+ minutes slower than my time last year. I finished in 2 hours, 20 minutes and 9 seconds. I know the foot pain and walking was what did me in. It was a close race.
Even though I was disappointed to not get a P.R. (personal record), I was proud of the race I ran. Still feeling a bit down, sore and completely wiped out, I found that once again, words made a huge impact on how I felt. Later that evening, my lack of victory over a P.R. was made just a bit sweeter. The same friend, who gave me the “pep talk” message just before the race, sent me another one after the race. He said, “I’m so proud that you were able to overcome a physical obstacle that would have kept weak people down. You keep focused, keep fighting.... one more round!”
I smiled. Victory.
I got out of bed the next day feeling like I was hit by a truck and I couldn’t walk. Upon closer examination of my foot, I noticed I was now sporting a purplish, dark red bruise running along the left side of it. Owie! This was definitely more than a cramp. After seeing the doc and getting x-rays, I was told I had suffered severe bruising and a tendon injury that was “a common injury for runners” especially in endurance races like these. Ugh. How could my foot be so bruised, just from using it to run? I didn’t fall; an anvil didn’t actually get dropped on my foot (although, it sure felt like it had)...sigh. Oh well. I was planning on taking several weeks off for recovery anyway.
But here is the most important message I’d like to leave you with: There is power in words. Words within your own head, words that someone says to you, words that you speak to another person…they all matter. Remember that. You can choose to use your words to encourage and show kindness, or you can choose to use them to cause harm. Choose your words wisely. Even when you’re speaking inside your own mind; you must be your own cheerleader sometimes.
Everyone should feel like Rocky at least once in their lives. I’ve been lucky. Running lets me feel that way over and over again. (Of course, now I’ve gotta wait a few weeks…) Guess I can get some more writing done, eh? Time for one more round...