My fist 10k run was nothing to write home to mom about. I was planning to do the 5k and in the car on the way there, I decided to do the 10k instead. I had run 4 miles the weekend before and thought what is two more miles? I had my running partner with me and knew I could keep up with her pace, so I did my first 10k on a whim and finished.
I decided I would train for my next 10k, try and beat my last time. Brody is getting older now, so I can actually do a long run on the treadmill while he naps. Sometimes I even stick him in the bouncy chair while I run, this way we can talk and have a conversation. In my mind I envision him thinking, " go mom, go," when really he is thinking, "What the heck is my mom doing?" Doesn't matter to me, he is my moral support, infant and all.
Race Day came up on me faster then I had planned, but this time I felt ready. I did look at the course and realized there were more hills then my last race, and it was a trail run, so the odds of beating my prior 10k time, wasn't looking good. At any rate, I was excited and had the classic race day jitters. I figured it was just another stab at proving myself as a runner, and knowing I was capable of more then just the 5k.
That morning I awoke to find a little note by the coffee pot "Good luck, sweetie, love you," I smiled. Then went through the standard series of events:
Feed Brody, kiss him goodbye, grab sunscreen, grab hat, grab i-pod, drink a cup of coffee, drink water, use restroom, grab checkbook, lace-up, feel guilty for leaving Brody, thank good he has great grandparents who love to babysit, drink more coffee.........Time to go.
I peeked at the course a little, praying there wasn't a steep hill right off the bat. Lined up at the start line and then it was START TIME. I started off the run with a great pace. I felt good, and the first hill didn't even bother me, even though it was steep. I babied the downhill part of the course, due to my knees, but it was around mile 4 when things got a little painful.
I had read about people having to use the restroom during a race, but fortunately this had never happened to me, even while I was training. Suddenly, I heard my tummy gurglgle and twinge of panic started. I needed to go, and I needed to go bad. As I was traveling down the dusty trail, every rock I hit jarred my belly. I looked to my right to see if I could duck off the road with out getting too noticed, but there was nothing but a steep climb, which would surely be miserable. To my left was an open meadow and there was just no way.
The last two miles were not what I would call my fondest race memory. I kept looking for the mile markers that just weren't coming fast enough. I even slowed my pace a little, it was mind over matter at this point and the sooner I made it to the finish line, the sooner I could use the restroom. I crossed the finish line avoiding disaster, but only by a small margin :)
I arrived at home to tell my hubby that I didn't do so well, and I told him why. Of course to him everyone else this situation is comical and looking back it is comical to me too.................at the time it wasn't so comical.
Looked up my time this morning, got first in my age group, even with my unfortunate condition. Was it miserable? ..............yes! Will I do it again?...............you bet! It's on to train for the 10k in May!
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