The Nitty Gritty

Someone once told me, probably in an effort to curb the profanity, that swearing was a sign of an unimaginative mind.  As you can see from my last post, I clearly took that advice to heart.  I learned in the crib and then honed my craft during two summers on a fishing tender in Alaska.  You have not heard colorful language until you do something so asinine you should have lost your arm if there were any justice at all the world in front of a salty old fisherman who hasn't slept in 48 hours.  I suppose I should be able to describe the fact that I finished that @#$%^&* race in the King's English, but yesterday I could not have expressed any more succintly how hard it was, how relieved I was it was over, how happy I was that I did it, how frustrated I was with myself during it, how much I loved the fact that my brother & I did this together, and how proud I am of myself.

But today everyone is either working, napping, or heading home, so I get to relive my moments in the sun at length.  And, Oh!  The sun...  My brother & I got up early to eat toast & peanut butter and were simply delighted to learn that it was already 79 degrees at 6am.  Which was clearly a factor in the fact that I never clicked into quiet running mode.  There was no much-hyped runner's high.  Disappointing.  I was frustrated with myself because I spent much of the race trying to talk myself into the moment, and out of walking.  If it were any other training day I would have cut it short and tried later when my head was more in the game (lookit me with the sports talk!).  And I did walk a couple-three (four?) times for brief stints, in addition to unnecessary lingering at the water stations, but dammit I did run up ALL the hills.  And, Oh! The hills!  There were a lot of them and they were (@#$%^&#$%) STEEP.  I was more or less OK thru mile 8, and even got a boost when my SIL and son were waiting for us on a corner but telling myself that I only had 5 more miles to go, and you can run 5 miles, of course you can!, was a theory rejected.  The next 4 miles felt like 20. 

There were, of course, ambulances on scene, and we even saw one middle aged guy getting an IV at mile 4 (which might be an interesting tangent about pity which I heartily reject -because, obviously- but I was quite guilty of feeling it in the moment because even I wasn't that bad off at mile 4, the poor schlub)... anyway, I was lingering so close to the dark edge mentally, I was wondering how close I was physically to dropping, because being tended to in an air conditioned truck with handsome EMTs didn't sound so bad. And that was mightily frustrating.  Because my breathing was fine, my hip/sciatic hurt but not debilitatingly so, it was just my head that didn't show up for the race.  My brother was FABULOUS -  He stayed with me, even when I waved him on (dramatically - No! Leave me! Save yourself race time!) and we finished together.  Even though he could have clearly finished much faster solo.  Love you P.  You're my favorite middle-younger brother.

But I did take all the hills, and I even sprinted* at the end - actually, for the last MILE or so, right after the last (mother of a...) hill, hysterically because I was positive the finish line was closer.  So I clearly had something in reserve.  Next race (oh YES, there will be a next race!), I'll have to figure out how to spread the energy around a bit more.  In all, mixed results.  Deep reservoir of grit and determination?  Wily elusive little bastard.
*"Sprinting", of course, being relative.

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My social calender has exceeded my posting abilities.  Left to cover:  The rest of my sister's wedding/pictures (fun! wine!), the train ride with my son out to Kansas City for the race (people watching! creepy guy! kids-with-technology!), Friday night's street fair (people watching! zombies!) and our Buddy Walk Step Up for Down Syndrome Walk this morning (why did they change the name!?).  Also, I think, the cicadas - because all of a sudden it is really LOUD outside.