Whoo-ee, it's been awhile, hasn't it?! Sorry about that, y'all. You know how it goes. You get busy. Really busy. Then when you have a few spare minutes to blog, the task to update everyone about the goings-on in your life seems so overwhelming that you freeze. And don’t blog. For days. Then you think, well, no one’s reading this dang blog anyway.
So I’ll try to highlight my races and running and everything else over the next few days.
Cherry Blossom 10-Miler: This April 3 race was freezing, with headwinds the first 6 miles. Spring, my ass. Plus, the ground was muddy from heavy rains the day before. There were almost 10,000 runners, and I got boxed in and ran the first 3 miles really slowly.
My SO was running with me – he who has never run 10 miles before – and while he ran slightly faster than me at first, by mile 6, he was starting to breathe raggedly. We had agreed beforehand to run together, so I asked him if he wanted to slow down.
“No!” he said, wheezing.
Okay. By then, we were slogging up a long, gradual incline. Still freezing, by the way. I started accelerating after the turn-around, but I could hear my SO still laboring for breath. So I slowed down. But by mile 8, I realized that I wasn’t going to finish in my goal time (1:30) if I didn’t step it up.
So I did, lengthening my strides and quickening my cadence. Luckily, my SO kept within a few yards of me. He looked really tired. I tried to encourage him, i.e. "You're doing great!" and "Almost there!"
All of a sudden, at mile 9, he perked up. “I can see the finish line!” he said and sped waaaay up. He’s 6’ 3 ½” and I’m 5’ 2”, so I had to take 3 steps for every two of his. But I kept up with him.
With about 100 yards to go, he said, “Come on, go faster, you can do it!”
He kept saying that over and over. I was starting to get irritated.
“Be quiet,” I thought grimly to myself. “I didn’t push you when you were about to barf up your breakfast in mile 6.”
With 50 yards to go, dozens of spectators were lined up on both side of the streets, cheering us on and waving their hands. The announcer’s voice boomed over the PA system and the stiff wind snapped the banners at the finishing line.
In the last 20 yards, we're running neck and neck. He yelled, “Come on! Come on!”
My lungs were about to burst. My hamstrings were on fire. And my temper finally snapped. “I’m TRYING!” I yelled back, over the cheers of the crowd.
Then, still pissed: “FUUUU*******K!”
The male runners to the left did a quick double-take. Some onlookers gasped. My SO finally shut up.
We crossed the finish line together in 1:30:57.