I ran and finished a half-marathon yesterday! Yeah! Go me! Huzzah! In 2 hours, nineteen minutes and 13 seconds.
Today, I can hardly walk. Yesterday I could hardly walk either but I had to because I had a softball game. Ugh. Today I am wearing my flatest, most arch supporting (i.e. ugly) shoes, I am taking actual ibuprofen (I oddly eschew medication of all kinds so this is a big step for me), and I'm preparing to sit on my arse for most of the day. Friendster Guy and I already have a long movie picked out and as soon as I am done teaching my abs class (God help me) I am going over to his house and we're going to snuggle on the couch. Alleluiah! 5 o'clock can't get here soon enough.
The race up to mile 9 wasn't too bad, except my knee started hurting around mile 2 which sucked because I was hoping to get to at least mile 5 before the pain started. When I hit mile nine I made a mental note, "This is now my longest run ever." and celebrated the fact that I only had 4 miles to go.
But those 4 miles were a doozy. I'm pretty sure I hit a rip in the time space continuum that didn't transport me to another dimension but made each mile twice as long as the last. I swear to you the last mile was at least 16 miles long.
A note to spectators, do not, I repeat, do not tell runners that there's only a mile left unless you have actually measured the number of feet from your doorstep to the finish line. I heard "only a mile left" three times over the span of half a mile. After 12 miles, half a mile means a whole hell of a lot. And "You're almost there!" is very nice but also very relative. Very, very relative. And way too vague. I needed to know how many more steps I had to take because I only had so many left in me. False hope is almost worse than no hope at all.
I only stopped to walk once and it hurt more to walk so I just kept running. I saw one of Friendster Guy's bosses/friends toward the very end and that boosted me for a few feet. And he was there at the finish cheering me on. He was working the medic's tent so he offered me a gatorade. Everyone else got water. That gatorade was like manna from heaven. Then he texted messaged Friendster Guy saying, "Asshole your girlfriend just ran this race and you weren't here to see it." I really didn't mind that Friendster Guy wasn't there. He was working and I had plenty of friends in the race and cheering on the course. I could have used someone to carry me to my car but I made it.
Despite everything, I think I would do it again. I may even see if there is one later in the summer or fall. I have to figure out how to make sure my knees don't get permanently damaged but other than that - muscularly, cardiovascularly, energywise - I felt great.
P.S. I think this is what's wrong with my knee - Iliotibial Band Syndrome. I found it on Cool Runnings. Then I looked for it on-line and I got this link as the first one on Google. The crazy thing is, I work with the guy who created this website! Small freaking world! I think I'll go downstairs and pick his brain.
Today, I can hardly walk. Yesterday I could hardly walk either but I had to because I had a softball game. Ugh. Today I am wearing my flatest, most arch supporting (i.e. ugly) shoes, I am taking actual ibuprofen (I oddly eschew medication of all kinds so this is a big step for me), and I'm preparing to sit on my arse for most of the day. Friendster Guy and I already have a long movie picked out and as soon as I am done teaching my abs class (God help me) I am going over to his house and we're going to snuggle on the couch. Alleluiah! 5 o'clock can't get here soon enough.
The race up to mile 9 wasn't too bad, except my knee started hurting around mile 2 which sucked because I was hoping to get to at least mile 5 before the pain started. When I hit mile nine I made a mental note, "This is now my longest run ever." and celebrated the fact that I only had 4 miles to go.
But those 4 miles were a doozy. I'm pretty sure I hit a rip in the time space continuum that didn't transport me to another dimension but made each mile twice as long as the last. I swear to you the last mile was at least 16 miles long.
A note to spectators, do not, I repeat, do not tell runners that there's only a mile left unless you have actually measured the number of feet from your doorstep to the finish line. I heard "only a mile left" three times over the span of half a mile. After 12 miles, half a mile means a whole hell of a lot. And "You're almost there!" is very nice but also very relative. Very, very relative. And way too vague. I needed to know how many more steps I had to take because I only had so many left in me. False hope is almost worse than no hope at all.
I only stopped to walk once and it hurt more to walk so I just kept running. I saw one of Friendster Guy's bosses/friends toward the very end and that boosted me for a few feet. And he was there at the finish cheering me on. He was working the medic's tent so he offered me a gatorade. Everyone else got water. That gatorade was like manna from heaven. Then he texted messaged Friendster Guy saying, "Asshole your girlfriend just ran this race and you weren't here to see it." I really didn't mind that Friendster Guy wasn't there. He was working and I had plenty of friends in the race and cheering on the course. I could have used someone to carry me to my car but I made it.
Despite everything, I think I would do it again. I may even see if there is one later in the summer or fall. I have to figure out how to make sure my knees don't get permanently damaged but other than that - muscularly, cardiovascularly, energywise - I felt great.
P.S. I think this is what's wrong with my knee - Iliotibial Band Syndrome. I found it on Cool Runnings. Then I looked for it on-line and I got this link as the first one on Google. The crazy thing is, I work with the guy who created this website! Small freaking world! I think I'll go downstairs and pick his brain.
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