The Marathon can Humble You

Even a half-marathon can do that.  Let's talk about what happened yesterday.

Going into the Palos Heights Half Marathon, I would say that I was the most prepared I had ever been for a race so far.  Experience has been an excellent teacher.  My training was more consistent, I felt stronger and faster, my diet was better.  I did everything right.  In the week leading up to the race, I was able to adjust my water consumption to 3 litres per day, and even though I wasn't eating as much as I should have, I was eating the right things.  The night prior to the race, I made sure I was hydrated and carb-loaded.  I was in bed before 9:30 PM.  I had driven to the course to pick up my race packet on Saturday so I knew where I'd be going the day of the race.

On the morning of the race, things couldn't have felt better.  I woke up at 4:30 AM and had a cup of tea with my cliff bar, followed by half a litre of water.  Then I drove to Palos Heights.  I had another half litre of water, reluctantly used the port-o-potties, and met up with some former Team-in-Training coaches.  The weather was brilliant and the crowd was smallish.  There were only about 1700 people registered for the race.  At the start, everyone was excited, but I planned to run a smart race...stay at my long run pace (which is about 15 to 30 seconds slower than my race pace) for the first 6 miles, then move up to a 10:30 pace, and then finish the last 5K a little faster than that).  My mile splits  were right on target, and I mean dead on, for the first 4 miles.  I was feeling really good.  Then when I hit mile 5, something started to happen, and I still can't quite explain in.  I just...started to get weak.  I started to get dizzy.  My legs felt like I had just sprinted 400 metres.  I didn't think I was going to make it to the turn around.  When I saw the medical tent, I thought "this is it.  this is where I stop because I'm having a hard time focusing.  I can't lift my legs".  But I kept moving, just so much slower.

I started to tear up because I knew that I wasn't going to finish in my goal time, but also because I knew I wasn't going to finish in my absolute, basic minimum time.  And I didn't know what was wrong because I did everything right.  Everything.  So when I hit mile 10, I gave it everything I had left to give, and crossed the finish line in 2:37 even.  7 minutes too slow.  7 minutes slower than I've ever finished any long run this season.  

I must have looked pretty bad, because as I collected my medal and my powerade and the first of two bottles of water, a volunteer asked if I was okay and if I needed some help.  I politely declined, and proceeded to drink the powerade and then move on to the water.  

Aaaaaaand then things got blurry.  Literally.  I could not see straight, so I wandered over to the grass, sat down, and put my head between my knees, and blacked out.  Through my amazing skillz, I managed to stay sitting, and when I came to, someone was kind enough to get me some more water.  I drank that, and then went to get my stuff from gear check.  It was kinda like feeling you're drunk and don't want anyone to know, so you try to play it cool, which makes you look more drunk.  Yeah, that was me, sans alcohol.  I got my stuff and sat down again, at which point another person came over and asked if I was alright and if I needed help.  Once again, i declined, just saying that I was "spent."

For the rest of the day, all I could do was drink water, and even then, it appeared that I wasn't hydrated or something.  Well I went to bed early and couldn't go to work this morning.  I tried to get a doctor's appointment, but that didn't work out, so we'll see about later in the week.  

All in all, I guess this it what it means to run.  You can prepare your best, you can feel great, but when something goes wrong it really goes wrong.  So, as soon as I figure out what it was, it'll be on to the next race.