San Francisco was fantastic. Good company, wine tour to Sonoma, bay cruise, shopping, exploring neighborhoods with Victorian houses, coffee every morning. Too bad the race wasn’t.
20,000 plus women packed in around union square under street lights at 6:45 am was a sight to behold. It took me a bit to cross the start line, and when I tried to run, I bumped walkers. Excellent. At mile 6, I tried to run up the switchback (I could see a sea of people ahead of me), but was barricaded by people walking up the hill. And shortly after, it started to rain.
Mile 11, I felt a strange sensation on my foot, saw blood on my shoe, and briefly pondered running through, but decided I should probably stop at the nearest medical tent, given that I had only run half a race at this point.
My splits were the slowest I have ever run in my life. Proudest race moment (not:p) crossing the half at 2:20. I have never run a race that slow in my life. Not even when I was sick, and running in – 20 degrees celsius weather.
I wish I could blame it all on the hills. I couldn’t. They were no worse than anything I had run in training. I wasn’t sick. I didn’t sleep well the night before, but who does?
Yes, I am happy I did finish, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t very disappointed, to run a race like I did given the training I had put in, and knowing I was capable of so much better (even given the conditions).
I crossed the finish line and was handed a tiffany’s box by a tuxedo clad fireman, who congratulated me on a good race. I only wish it had been. I didn’t run nearly as hard as I know I could have. The post race proves it – I don’t look like I have run a step..haha. I pretty much ran when I felt like it and walked when I felt like it. I don’t think I ran fast enough to hit the wall.
A colleague asked me my time, and then laughed out loud. I didn’t blame him. I had pretty much the same reaction.
I do think, that when the disappointment fades, there is a lot to be taken away from this marathon. Learning that races don’t always unfold according to plan (to say the least.
I could say that I won’t ever run another step, but that’s not true. And I daresay, having run a lousy race will make me a better runner and marathoner, and that there is more to be learned than if I ran a perfect race.