Georgetown to Idaho Springs 1/2 marathon: Sensory overload

When I signed up to run the Georgetown to Idaho Springs 1/2 marathon, I did it because it was a good deal on a run with a scenic course.  I'd sworn off of 1/2 marathons the year before, but $25 for a 1/2 marathon?!  That was too good to pass up.  Little did I know that I would start training late and be stymied in my training by family life and injuries.  Little did I know that running downhill was so painful.  Little did I know a few oversights at 5 am on race day would mean pain!  And little did I know how proud I could be of myself in a less than stellar performance.  Finishing just 2 minutes longer than my pre children 1/2 marathon in Denver in 2007 and just 10 minutes longer than my Denver Rock-n-Roll time last year, I am pleased considering the circumstances and poor training.  Here's the blog I composed in my head while I ran along I-70's frontage road from Georgetown to Idaho Springs, CO:

5 am: Coffee brewing, bag packed.  As I make the drive to Idaho Springs, the warm coffee begins to wake me up after a terrible night of tossing and turning.  I'm psyched out.  This beautiful, fun race I've signed up to do with my husband has turned into just me because of his broken ankle.  Plus, I've been hearing a bunch of stories from people who have done it before about how hilly the course is and how painful the downhill can be and how they had some of their worst times ever.  I'm not going to lie, I'm dreading this run.  But, I can't not give it my all.  Poor training be damned.  I will run.  I will hurt and I will persevere!

6 am:  Arrive in Idaho Springs.  I've only drank 1/3 of the amount of water I wanted to drink on my way here because my focus has been on coffee.  Crap.  Now I'm starting off dehydrated.  Decisions to be made...do I run in long sleeves or do I put on my tank top and ditch my long sleeve shirt before the race.  Eh, it's chilly but not too cold and once the sun is up it'll be in the 60's at altitude, go for the tank top with the long sleeves on top.  Inhale breakfast, make my way to the bus to Georgetown with banana in hand.  It's go time!

6:15 am:  OMG it's freezing!  And gorgeous!  The Georgetown lake start makes for a chilly beginning to the day.  Take a few pics then huddle beneath a tree for and hour. Plan made.  30 minutes before the start eat banana, go to the bathroom, check long sleeve shirt at gear check.  Shit!  The cold is making my phone battery drain ridiculously fast, put it in airplane mode, curl up in the fetal position and wait...

7:45 am:  Scope my place out in line.  This is by far the smallest event I've ever entered with only 4000 participants so I'm not used to the disorganization.  Fast people in front, slow in back. I make my way to the middle.  I can't feel my hands, feet or arms at this point.  People around me are all just as numb and cold.  It must be less than 45 degrees by the lake.  The announcer makes some comments and the national anthem ensues, which most in line can't hear and don't even realize is happening.  I have a sudden realization:  4000 people, freezing, up before dawn, getting ready to run 13.1 miles...voluntarily.  Either we are all crazy or I have picked the right state to live in.

8 am sharp!:  And we're off.  Mile 1-2 looping around Georgetown.  What a surreal sensation to be running but have zero sensation in my arms or legs because of the cold.  I feel no pain.  2 miles flies by and we are back at the starting line and mile 2.  On cue, the sun finally crests over the mountains and the thaw begins.

Mile 3:  Starting to warm up.  I can do this.  Pacing with the 2:15 minute pacer.  SWEET!  I've never run this fast before.  Feeling good.  Downhill is awesome.  The self talk begins...who needs training?  You've got this.  Could be your best time ever.  Don't get too cocky.  It's still early.

Mile 4:  Water!  And cytomax!  Oh crap, they are out of cytomax...must wait for them to make more.  Eww, the kid is just dipping his hand in the drink...oh well, must drink and move on.  Do you not realize I'm running this for time?!!!  Must catch up to my pacer!

Mile 5:  Ah a feast for the senses, cow manure and road kill!  God, it's getting hot!

Mile 6-7:  Pain.  Ankles and knees starting to feel the pain.  One long uphill...must walk.  Come on, you've got this, run!!!  Oh shit, I didn't bring any fuel.  No shot blocks.  Dumb, rookie mistake.  You've run races before.  You know to bring food!  Dumb, dumb, dumb mistake.  This will come back to bite you in the ass!

Mile 7-8:  Hitting the dirt.  Must walk.  Knees and ankles protesting.  Strange to think the surface I trained on most is my downfall.  Narrow trail, being passed.  Fuck you early in the race self that was so cocky.  You didn't train.  You set yourself up for failure.  You suck! Oh crap...I was wearing long sleeves this morning. Now I'm wearing a tank top and I forgot to put on sunscreen.  I'm going to be fried.  Sigh...could I make any more stupid mistakes.  Two shot blocks at mile 8, not enough to get me through the race though.  Goodbye 2:20 pacer.

Mile 8-10:  Pain...that's all there is to say about that.  Ankles, knees.  One foot in front of the other.  Just move.  You can do this.

Mile 10:  Zip lines, can we just take them to the finish?

Mile 10-13: Cramps!!!!!  Calves and hamstrings cramping bad.  A direct result of not enough hydration and fuel.  Toes curling uncontrollable every time I push off with my toes.  Stop many many times to stretch and remove small rocks from shoes.  Am I going to lose toenails?!  It sure feels like it as my toes continue to take a beating on the downhill.  Still able to jog the downhills as long as I don't push off too hard with my toes.  Woosh, there goes the 2:25 pacer...and the 2:30 pacer.   So much for my goal of under 2:30.  Can I finish in under 2:45?  The 2:35 pacer passes me...run, dammit!  Run even if it kills you.  I've made it to the town limits.  Finishers coming back to cheer on those still running.  So close they say.  You've got this they say. Run it out they say.  Feeling motivated.  Pushing on.  Text from Zack says my family is close.  

I start to get emotional.  Through the pain and the cramps I've pushed on, I've done all I can do with very little training.  My kids and husband are here, waiting for me to cross the finish.  And then I see them.  I grab my 4 year old and ask him to cross the finish line with me.  Together we hold hands and jog across the finish line.  I give him a big hug and thank him for coming to watch me run.  

I'm tired, I'm sore.  I stop my stop watch at 2:36 and can't believe that I finished that quickly knowing I walked almost all of the last 4 miles.  Knowing that multiple times I stopped to stretch because of the cramping and that I stopped to empty my shoes of pebbles several times.  Knowing that I had the worst cramps I've ever had running and some of the worst training I've ever done for any event.  We found the official times listed.  2:35:44.  The 2:35 pacer hadn't been on pace when she passed me.  I did it in well under 2:45 even walking a lot.  The final sense of the day was a sense of pride.  I did this.  Even injured and with poor training and a family at home, I did this in a respectable time.  Yes, I was in the lower 50% with my time, finishing just below the 50th percentile, but I'm not a runner.  No matter how many races I've run, it's not my forte.  But I did it.  On a Saturday morning in August, I got up at 4:30 am and I ran/walked 13.1 miles before a lot of people even got out of bed. I'm proud of myself and I'm proud that I am in the best cardiovascular shape of my adult life after giving birth to two kids.  I do not doubt that giving birth to them naturally has made me a stronger person.  I now know there is nothing that I can't do if I set my mind to it.  Pain is temporary and subjective.  I want my kids to know that too and know their mama is a strong woman.  Today, I feel strong!