Ugh.
That sums it up in one word.
I only ran once last week, trying to save my legs for a solid 5K Saturday morning. I ate super healthy all week, stayed super hydrated even with the increasing heat, and felt really good overall. Friday night I went to Zumba with my friend Nina and got a shin splint so bad I had to leave. I was a little worried that this might come back to haunt me Saturday morning, so I got some pro tape on the way home and prepared to wrap my legs in the morning.
When I woke up Saturday, I felt fantastic, minus menstrual cramps and some serious back tightness. I stretched my legs out really well, ate a healthy breakfast, and swaped the coffee for some Vitamin Water to keep myself hydrated since it was super humid out. I met up with my friend Laura and her boyfriend at the starting line to get my t-shirt and race bib. My legs were feeling awesome. I felt ready this time.
The race is an out-and-back that starts on a nice downhill and heads straight across the Susquehanna River between York and Lancaster counties, loops around, and heads back uphill for the last portion. I sprinted downhill with Laura, falling behind as soon as we hit the flat stretch. I was still feeling pretty strong, ready to beat my last 5K time. As I was passing the 1 mile marker, the leaders were passing me going the other way.
Disheartening.
Seriously. I felt like turning around and giving up.
As I rounded the turn about halfway in, I gave up caring and wanted to walk, I was cramping and starting to feel sluggish. I took a cup of water from the volunteers and tossed it on my face to cool myself off, but it only helped momentarily. As I hit the 2 mile marker, the volunteer shouted out "23:50!" I did some mental math, realizing that I could potentially beat my time from the last race. Then reality hit and I realized that I didn't stand a chance since the last part is uphill and hills and I have a complicated relationship. With a mile left, someone called out "25 (something)!" and my legs gave up. I walked, forcing myself to keep pace to my music, and realizing that walking to the beat of my music was actually putting me farther ahead than running because my strides were wider. I let myself walk about 1/5 of the last mile, forcing myself to run that last hill so no one would see me giving up.
That damn finish line as I was walking back to my car
with my head hanging.
I took baby steps up the hill, sweat dripping down my face and blurring my vision. I thought the clock said 33 minutes when it came into view and I started to run a little faster until I realized that it actually said 39. I slowed my pace back down, accepting the fact that it couldn't get much worse.
Final time? 40:06. 419 out of 530.
Almost 3 minutes worse than my slowest time. You know, when I was 30 pounds heavier.
Grr.
But at least I got Rita's when I crossed the finish line...
It really was an easy course. I think it was a combination of boredom with the out-and-back across a bridge, my period, and the humidity. It just sucked the life right out of me. The race was incredibly well organized and the volunteers were great. It makes me very nervous about my hopes of a 10K in July and a half-marathon in November, but I just think the situation wasn't ideal for me and, unfortunately, I haven't come to terms with the fact that conditions will never be perfect.