On Sunday, I ran my seventh half marathon, and my third Boston’s Run to Remember race. It wasn’t my best time, nor was it my worst. Yet in so many ways, this was such a totally different race experience for me.
I know I’ve said in the past in the days leading up to any race that “Golly gee, a PR would be nice but my goal is to just have fun and finish” or I just want to “enjoy the experience” or “run strong.” And I’m sure I subconsciously meant those words at the time…although I think if I looked deep down inside, I’d probably see that I wasn’t being 100% truthful. Because the competitive side of me is always shooting for a PR, to beat myself, to have something to write and tell you guys about.
(And really, I know some people love running, but I don’t think I could ever say I want to run 13 miles “just for fun” or “just for the experience.”)
Yet that’s exactly how I felt both before — and after — Sunday’s Run to Remember race, because I knew this wouldn’t be like my other half marathons:
- I was clearly not at 100%, thanks to my sore knee, which greatly impacted my training over the last six weeks, and was definitely going to be a question mark.
- I was was also running for charity for the first time — the Alzheimer’s Association — and I felt a responsibility to the many people who donated more than $1300 to this important cause to carry out my end of the promise, no matter what, and finish this race.
- But more importantly, I was running in my grandfather’s memory, something I was honored to do and took seriously.
- And at the same time, I was also running with the support, friendship and companionship of more than a dozen of my fellow mama runners from my local running group — an incredible group of ladies who trained (and laughed!) together for many months, and who I was happy to share this experience with, whatever it turned out to be.
Surprisingly, the first six miles of the race actually went pretty well. I kept a consistent 9:10 pace through downtown Boston and over the Charles River to Memorial Drive in Cambridge. I had my first Gu at mile 5 and got a little boost. But just after the 10K mark, my inconsistent training caught up with me…as did my bladder. Oy.
As the miles ticked by, I felt increasingly uncomfortable. And just before we were about to hit the bridge to head back into Boston — somewhere around 9-10 miles — I had my come-to-Jesus moment. My pace was now hovering in the 9:25 range, so a sub-2:00 wasn’t going to happen (not that I really thought it would on that particular day). And I realized losing a minute in the loo was probably worth it to feel more comfortable for those last challenging 3-4 miles.
So for the first time in a race, I made a pit stop. Luckily there wasn’t a line and I only lost 90 seconds. I felt soooo much better after, but those last couple miles were still tough, both mentally and physically (and I can only imagine how much worse it would have been had I not stopped). And even though my legs — though surprisingly not my knee — were screaming, I kept telling myself, Do not walk, do not walk. Slow down if you have to, but you will NOT walk.
Just around mile 12 I saw the Alzheimer’s Association volunteers handing out water, and seeing them reminded me why I was out here running in the first place. It definitely gave me the motivation I needed to summon whatever energy I had left and chug along to the finish line, crossing about six minutes off from my half marathon PR.
Normally, I’d be on the verge of tears after finishing so far from a PR, cursing and berating myself for so many things, whether or not they were even in my control: getting injured, not running harder, not hitting the portapotty one last time before the race started.
Yet as I collected my finisher’s medal and caught up with my friends, I was surprised to find that I was okay with my time, my race, my performance. And I really meant it.
Because I ran for more than just a personal best: I ran for my grandfather and the millions of other Americans who have been impacted by Alzheimer’s disease.
Because I ran 13.1 freaking miles when I wasn’t at 100%.
Because I ran with the support and camaraderie of my running friends who celebrated each other’s victories and triumphs — and the fact that we all finished.
So I think I definitely earned this post-race margarita…
And the post-race merriment…
So what’s next?
Well, it’s several days post-race and my knee is still not right. So I finally succumbed and make an appointment with an orthopedic specialist for later this week. Fingers crossed that it’s just really bad arthritis.
Either way, it puts running the Newport 10 Miler (my favorite race!) this weekend in question. I’m not ruling it out altogether — it will depend on what the doctor says — but I’m growing less and less optimistic. Stay tuned!
Rachel says
I hope your appointment goes well! It looks like you have a lot to run for 😊.
Brooke newell says
You go girl! Way to fight through it! I’m sure your grandfather is proud!
Brooke newell says
And good luck with the Doctor!!