it didn't feel very half-like

I ran the half on Saturday.

I learned mid-week that I'd be going alone, because D's good friend died and the funeral was 9 a.m. on Saturday in Florida while my race was 8 a.m. on Saturday in Charleston. I won't lie, facing the trip and the night before and doing the entire race day alone was daunting.

But, what else would I do? After all this training, and working, and putting tremendous energy toward it physically and emotionally, there was no way I'd back out. Several of my friends have said "I'm so proud of you for still going" and I'm like really? Like I'd sit home and think of the race I was trained for but was too scared to go to alone?

Odd.

So, I left work midafternoon and cruised down to the Expo to get my packet. I'd battled a horrible chest cold all week, horrible enough that I'd gone to the doctor Thursday morning to make sure it wasn't The Craziest Idea Ever to go ahead with the race. It wasn't. I felt a lot better Friday, but still knew I had to low key it, so my plan was to get to the hotel ASAP and chill. Which I did--I was there by around 530, ordering penne with marinara and three bottled waters from room service and reading Runner's World for inspiration.

Around 8 or 9 pm I realized that the shuttle ticket, which I'd bought last minute since until the last minute I expected to have a chaffeur to the starting line who would also pick me up at the finish, wasn't in my packet anywhere. Of course I had a minor panic attack and considered driving to the starting line so I wouldn't have to stress about it until after the race.

I went to bed around 930 and didn't sleep worth a damn. Saturday morning I made it to stand in line for the shuttle by 655, but didn't get downtown until about 750. There were NOT enough shuttles. They dropped us 4 blocks from the starting line and I started booking it, knowing I had to pee before beginning running thanks to all the hydrating I'd been doing all week and all morning.

The lines for the porta potty meant I didn't get to do the whole starting line excitement thing. I also didn't have a chance to warm up. I burst out of the porta-potty, sprinted the 1 1/2 more blocks to the start and crossed the starting mat around 810. Kind of a bummer, because the area was like a ghost town, papers blowing in the wind and only a few people standing around, disinterested.

The feeling that we were behind caused the group of us who'd been in the same predicament to really book it for the first mile--which I did in 9:40. I was out of breath and realized that wasn't a good warmup mile and I had a long way to go. I tried to slow down and relax, and enjoy downtown Charleston (because I knew that the route was going to get way uglier pretty quickly), but I stayed pretty uptight through downtown. I realized around mile 3 that I hadn't eaten enough, so I stopped off at a convenience store and bought and ate a few crackers. I immediately felt much better. I also stopped at every single water break and drank gatorade AND water. Fueling is a big issue for me and I have finally realized that I basically can't physically consume enough water/electrolytes during a race--the more the better. I even had 3 gatorades at one stop (small cups, but still)!

And seriously, 45 minutes through 2 hours was pretty much a blur. We were running into a very strong headwind (15-20 mph, apparently) for 95% of the race, which made it an exercise of sheer will. A few times when a bigger gust hit me in the face, I just started walking until it passed. It was just a soul-killer. Adding to the challenge was the fact that I'd decided not to bring my MP3 player, expecting far more volunteers, spectators, and performers than there were. So, for about 2 hours, I was running up a highway in the neck of the Charleston peninsula, into the wind, convincing myself to keep going.

By mile 10 I started the mantra "this is nothing." I also had some delusional hallucinations/math mistakes about what my time could be if I kept it up. They ended up being very delusional, but whatever. They probably kept me motivated. Around mile 11 we got into the Noisette area and out of the hard wind. My legs were DONE. But no one around me was walking, and I knew by then that I had to keep running to hit a decent time. When we finally saw the FINISH sign, as we made a turn right at mile 13, I let out a sob. There are no words.

Still, that last .1 was hard. as. hell. My legs were over it, I just wanted to lie down, and I needed it to be over.

Finally, it was. I met my drop-dead goal of under 2:30, but not my ultimate goal of 2:20. My time was 2:24:45.

I couldn't find my coworker in the crowd, and it was windy as hell and chilly, and bananas and bagels didn't appeal, and being alone in that crowd was seriously depressing, so I pretty quickly headed to my car and called D. I hit the starbucks drive-thru on the way back to my hotel, took an ice bath, called my mom, tweeted and facebooked, took a long, long, long hot shower, and crashed.

And I really just got my energy back today. I have been emotionally and physically a zero ever since the race. There was so much riding on this race for me, that finishing it was overwhelming. It's hard to explain, and I was blindsided by it.

So, clearly, the thing to do now is another race! For one thing, I want a do-over. I'm 99% sure I want to run a half here in town in April. And there's a 10k on the 28th that I probably need to do as well. This race was so painful on so many levels, I need a happy race.

I'll keep you posted.