I did it. I did it ugly. I did it under adverse conditions. I did it.
The race was on Saturday (St. Patrick’s Day). I got seriously sick on Thursday — thought it was food poisoning, but after seeing the doctor (after the race), it appears to be a nasty stomach bug. I was so nauseous, had a fever, flop sweats, chills and the many visits to the bathroom. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t keep hydrated, for obvious reasons…ahem.
I rested as best I could, and in my mind all I could think of was the race. My rest. My lack of hydration. My lack of nutrition going into the race. I was scared and angry that this was happening after I had trained so hard to be prepared. I really doubted whether I’d be even able to get out of bed on Saturday to make it to the race.
By Friday afternoon, I was able to actually get out of bed and I thought keeping my scheduled massage appointment might help me feel better for the race. This turned out to be a poor choice. I felt more dehydrated and nauseous. I went back to bed.
In my mind’s eye, I saw myself on the night before my race carefully laying out my gear and carefully pinning my racing bib to my shirt. Reality? No. I spent the night before the biggest physical challenge of my short running life huddled under a blanket drinking shots of Pepto Bismol and taking Advil to break my fever. This was not going at all like I had hoped or wanted.
I set an alarm for 4AM on Saturday hoping that I would wake up feeling better and have time to actually eat something and get ready. I awoke drenched in sweat and felt horrible. I couldn’t eat, I realized I hadn’t charged my Garmin and I felt hurried to just get out of the house in order to make it to the race on time. I popped three Imodium pills, charged the Garmin for about 25 minutes and hit the road with Sport Beans and Vitamin Water Zero to sip on while I drove to RFK Stadium.
I have to admit, once I got to the race and had a few minutes to just sit quietly in my car, I started to feel a little better. I met up with my friends from work who were running the race and waited for our corral to get to the start line.
We were in the last/slowest corral and it took 40 minutes for us to get to the start line. There were over 20,000 runners and I think all of them were lined up at the Port-O-Potties 20 minutes before the race officially started. I was ready to go. I actually felt good, while being very nervous.
When we finally crossed the start line I quickly felt the effects of not eating and being dehydrated. I cramped up within the first half-mile. I alternated running and walking for a bit and finally had to just tell my friends to go on without me. This was the first time I thought I would not be able to make it through the entire race.
As I hobbled along, I saw a guy running while juggling five balls. How he could do that while running occupied my mind while I kept moving along. He never dropped any while I saw him. I’d like to also point out that I was passed by a guy running barefoot and dressed as a horse. Humbling. He seemed to be enjoying himself.
Let’s skip forward to about six and a half miles in when I felt my second toenail on my right foot peel back off my toe. PAINFUL. This was the second time I thought I would not make it through the race. I had to walk. I limped actually. It hurt, I really thought about waving down the medical van and just getting a ride back to the end.
I rationalized in my mind that if I turned around and walked back to the start line, it would be almost 13.1 miles, so I should just stick it out and try to finish it walking. I was feeling so dehydrated, and every time I got to a water station, I would stop and drink four or five cups of water and Gatorade (if they had it). I am glad I did this because by the time I got to the next water stop, I would have awful cotton mouth. I just kept moving. Somehow, I was able to make it.
By the time I got the the ten mile point, I knew I was only a 5K away, yet it felt like I couldn’t go another mile. I started looking for any building or landmark that seemed to be close to RFK. Every turn I hoped to see at least a little piece of the stadium on the horizon. No luck.
The last water stop was between the eleventh and twelfth mile, so I drank up. I knew the next taste of water would be in the finish area and I would be there wearing my medal. I used this as motivation to drag my throbbing toe and burning feet along with my cramping legs to the finish.
I finally saw what I wanted to see, and now it seemed like I couldn’t move fast enough to get there. I was so tired. I was cramping. I just wanted it to be over. Finally, it was.
I went to the doctor on the way home for the pleasure of having a needle pierce my toenail, but it actually made it feel so much better. So now, I rest and reflect. I felt bad. I was malnourished. I was dehydrated. I stuck it out. I am glad I did it.
