The forecast wasn't wonderful. Leaving the house at 6:30am, I knew the cosmos may not conspire to give us sunshine, but I guess they were willing to conspire in one way. How was I to know that the conspiracy would feature rain and wind and more rain?
I shook out the nerves I was feeling as the race approached. After reaching the destination and hopping on the bus out to the start line, I could feel the nervous butterflies beating actively in my gut. "There's nothing to be nervous about... this is just for fun." It's funny how there are things you know... but all the knowing in the world can't help you shake the fact that you feel something else, contradictory and completely unavoidable.
We arrived and hopped off the bus, and I noticed that although it was obviously overcast and a bit chilly, rain was absent. It was dry on this part of the road, so I thought maybe, just maybe it wouldn't be too bad. I saw our fearless leader... the man who has been running my training clinic for the past few months, and you could sense the excitment in him. This was just another day on the road for him... another day to strap on the shoes and give 'er. I could sense his relaxation and thought again that there's nothing to be nervous about... just put one foot in front of the other and you'll be fine.
The race began and the action plan went through the window. I planned to start off at a slow pace... barely a jog, and pick it up a bit each kilometre. Unfortunately, my feet had other plans and within a minute I was striding at my typical pace comfortably. I knew this may not be the best idea, but sometimes I just let the feet do the talking. I'd never run a road race of this distance before, but I wasn't about to get in an argument with the things that were getting me home. I shut out the intimidation of the uber-runners with their fancy gear and years of experience, and simply put rubber to the pavement.
A few minutes later, the sky started changing and soon it was spitting. And the wind picked up slightly. And the spitting trickle turned into a more intense spray. And the spray turned into rain. By mile four, I was soaked. By mile five, I could hear sloshing in my shoes. And by mile six, I could feel my jacket collecting rain and become more heavy and begin to slowly shred my nipples, a layer of skin at a time. Because of this predicament, off came the jacket. But then it was cold. But at least my shirt wasn't moving around... I'd rather feel the slapping of my wet jacket against my legs than the uncomfortable burning sensation on my sensitive parts.
Needless to say, I slogged through the final four miles in some discomfort. I haven't discovered the joy of bodyglide quite yet, but an investment will be made soon. I ended up running the race in a respectable time (1:18:50), but I'm paying for it... sore chest (bleedy nipples), lower-back chafing, and some mild leg pain from I-have-no-idea what. But it's over and done with and I happy to say I did it. The route featured some fantastic scenery and I was pleased with my performance... my breathing and gait were contolled, the hills didn't bother me, and I think if the weather was better, I may have shaved off a number of minutes from my time. But, a pancake breakfast and some dry clothes at the finish did well to soothe the discomfort. Mmmm... pancakes.
I have another 5 weeks to go until the race I'm actually prepping for. I'm still somewhat scared because it's much longer (more than 1/2 marathon length), and there's a tonne of hills, but it should be a good test for me. And should be something I can be proud of for a while to come (as long as I don't die). I'd spend more time explaining my plans, but I've got a leg to ice.
T
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