I miscalculated the hilliness of the course – didn’t check the elevation map. And I paid the price. My two black toenails hate me!
Got cocky for my training. In the back of my mind, I knew I hadn’t pushed myself hard enough. I based my training on my last half-marathon. Decent time (even with a pee-emergency) but it was a flatter course than this one. I said to myself: if I ran in the heat along a bleak highway, and had a bathroom break, I could do this race with less effort. Uh, huh…
A delusional assumption. Who knew there would be so many hills?
I achieved a PB (7 seconds under 2 hours) – whoopee – I broke 2 hours! But this half-marathon almost killed me – not quite, it felt like I had done a full 42.2 kilometres when I crossed the finish line. I staggered and swayed, wondering why the ground beneath me was moving. A young volunteer put a medal around my neck, practically pulling me down – I grabbed her arm to steady myself.
‘are you ok?’ ‘yeah, I’m alive.’ Everything was a blur until I heard my name called out. Seeing my partner and daughter in the crowd, I made my way over and the first words out of my mouth: ‘never again!’ ‘You always say that.’ He knew me well.
I got some water, a banana, a package of kettle chips, and finally found a port-a-potty. Sigh. Ready to think about training for my next race.
Dana Petric's Blog 