Race for the Roses part 2 (with more details and pictures)

I got up, got dressed, put the temporary TEAM IN TRAINING tattoos on my cheeks (face), and headed out the door. The lobby at the double tree where the running team was meeting was really crowded and chaotic. We didn’t have time to get the team photo. sad. I, before drifting off to sleep the night before, decided to bring the new water-proof light-weight caution orange windshell that I had gotten recently. I knew the weather forecast was kinda drizzly, and mid-40’s... actually pretty good for a run, but the race course sorta stayed close to the Willamette River here in Portland, and I knew the breeze off of that can be bone chilling on colder days. I decided it was in my interest to bring this extra layer... if nothing else, cause I was still sick.

I mindlessly followed Sheryl around. I think I was annoying her a touch actually. I don’t think she was sure how ready I was to run, but I knew I was ok. I just didn’t want to lose her in the crowd, so I stuck with her.

We couldn’t quite get behind the starting line for the race start. It was too crowded, and we were kinda stuck to the side of the race course when they blew the bullhorn indicating the race start. We cheered the serious-looking runners on, and then decided to move into the starting area, and finally crossed the start line.



We ran, she slowed me down at the beginning a touch, and I thanked her for that. It’s really easy to get caught up in the excitement of the event and start out faster than you should.

Shortly after we started (while crossing the Broadway Bridge) my TNT run mentor from the Portland Marathon season caught up with us. Sheryl and Vicki are really good friends, so we were both excited to see her. She ran with us for a couple miles, and we happily chatted. We got to the slight uphill section between mile 3 and 4, and Sheryl started falling behind us. I was torn... I was doing fine and could have stuck with Vicki, but I decided to fall back a little and stick with Sheryl.

Vicki pulled ahead.

Around mile 5, while Sheryl was complaining about her knees, I guess I might have been empathetically channeling her complaints or something, but I noticed my bad knee starting to hurt. I tried adjusting the ace bandage on it on the run, but that just made things worse. Right about then we ran into Coach Julie and Captain Karl, and they asked how we were doing... I was like, "uh, my knee is beginning to bother me." We kept going tho, and I asked Sheryl if she would mind me taking the bandage entirely off and rewrapping at mile 6... that I thought it was slipping a touch and getting tighter ineffect... and pulling my kneecap in a weird direction. She said that was cool. I rewrapped... and let me tell you, that solved EVERYTHING with my knee.



Just before we crossed Burnside there was an aid station where there was also a girl (she looked maybe 30’s and probably had down syndrome) handing out honey sticks from Whole Foods. She was shrieking this fact at us actually "honey sticks from whole foods. honey stick from whole foods"... very high pitched... almost like she was trying to lose her voice. She reminded me of the receptionist lady in Office Space "Corporate accounts payable, Nina speaking. Can you hold please?"

Sheryl and I made our way through the pearl and NW portland, then to the ugly industrial area out and back. I saw many of my mentees during the out and back and was able to cheer them on, which was pretty cool. I was starting to feel fatigued at this point (approaching 2 hours?). I kept having to re-evaluate my running form and tried to lighten my attitude so that I wasn’t dragging myself along as much as actually running. At one point after silently re-evaluating myself, Sheryl encouraged me to go ahead and not feel slowed down by her, which was pretty funny... as I guess my re-evaluation actually worked. I assured her I was at my top speed at the moment, so not to worry. heh.



We watched as we approached mile 9, mile 10, mile 11. About then, I was really digging deep to find my energy (hitting the wall?) when my phone rang. Yeah, I was carrying it. This was like, 9am? I looked at it and it was Val. I answered with, "are you insane!?! why are you calling me??" She was sufficiently cowed. I think I was a little mean to her actually. She was asking where I was on the race course, and I was like, "far enough along that I really am not in the mood to talk." She apologized, I told her I’d call her back when I was done and hung up. As an additional note: I did call her back after the race, she was calling to see where I was, hoping to be able to come out and cheer me on, which is TOTally sweet of her, but we both agreed that was better discussed the day before the race (I could have calculated with my expected pace where I’d be when) instead of at mile 11, with less than 45 minutes left in my race, and me exhausted off my ass. I’m not sure she could have driven downtown, found parking, and gotten to the race course at the appropriate spot in time even if I was up to telling her where she could see me.

Every once in a while on the race course (about every 3 miles?) there was some stereo system setup playing music loudly. I heard an old Michael Jackson song, the Love Shack, I Will Survive, stuff like that. Pretty fun and distracting. We were just passing a sound system like that and Sheryl got pumped. I commented that she was suddenly amped up, and where ever that energy came from I wasn’t quite in the same place. I encouraged her to go with it and not feel like she had to stick with me. She pulled ahead of me.

A second annoying out and back along the river that was WAY longer than I was expecting, and now I was running it alone. I found myself actually closing my eyes while I ran and thinking specifically about my breathing, my strides, my form. I could tell my leg muscles were threatening to cramp if I tried anything they didn’t like. All I could do was continue and push myself as much as I dared.

FINALLY the turn-around came up on me. I was noticing that the runners had REALLY thinned out where I was, it was thicker where Sheryl was (I saw her running "back" while I was still headed "out"), we cheered eachother on. Running back is always faster than the out bit. At the end of this second out and back was the ramp up onto the Steele Bridge. This ramp is the biggest "hill" of the entire course, and altho only 200 meters long is pretty brutal at mile 13. The coaches and captain Karl were at the base of the bridge ramp and gave me high fives as I psyched myself up for the ascent.

I ran... slowly. Some other runner passed me on that uphill like I was crawling. poopy head.

Finally, almost at the top, I actually said out loud, "who am I kidding?" and I slowed to a walk for the first time of the entire run. I was walking kinda bull-legged too till my legs got used to not running, and continued to strut up to the top of the bridge like the walking wounded. Others had caught up to me, but didn’t pass me. They were all feeling that hill I think. Finally on the flat on top of the bridge, knowing it was only like 0.15 miles left in the race, I took a deep breath and started running again. The people who had caught up to me but hadn’t passed me on that uphill (4 of em?) all slowly passed me as I was coming off the other end of the bridge. It was pretty sad. I came across some other TNT people who were done already and were on the side of the road cheering my progress by saying "you’re almost there!"...

(side note: this, along with "pick up the pace!" is THE WORST thing you can say to a runner in an endurance event. When you are running, you’re only "almost there" when you could literally pass out and fall inert over the finish line... much better shouts of encouragement are:go [name of runner here]!, looking good!, you’re doing great!, way to go!, we’re proud of you!, you make running sexy!, and other such endearments which touch on neither how slow you are actually moving, nor how much further you still have to go)

... These TNT people were trying to entice me to keep running by telling me about the carrot cake and cookies after the finish line. I pathetically whined that I don’t much like carrot cake and cookies (I don’t have a sweet tooth). I’d rather have beer and cheese. They gave up and told me that the finish line was up ahead, and that was a good reason to keep going. I said, "ok, finish line. I want the finish line." By this point I was coming to the little underpass just before the sharp left-turn and then the finish line is RIGHT THERE... I knew this. Those 4 people had pulled ahead of me as I was approaching that left turn... and I got a little fire in my belly. I started running faster... and faster... and faster... and I broke out in to a sprint.

I rounded that corner at a pretty good clip, but kept getting faster. I passed all 4 of those other runners and crossed the finish line a good 20 feet ahead of them running my little ass off. The spectators at the finish line were cheering my late-in-the race push with "whoah, nice!" comments that I could hear. The announcer guy called my name out as I crossed the finish line. I smiled to myself and came to a panting stop after the finish... then hobbled over to where they had volunteers clipping the timing chips off your shoes. I was done.




I was able to be there 20 minutes later to cheer my mom over the finish line also. She said it was cool to hear me cheering for her.





There was supposed to be a victory party at a bakery after the run, but I was done. I was completely out of energy and cold and sore and needed to have a hot shower and a nap. I went straight home.