The finish line!

I am thrilled to report that I finished my very first race yesterday - the Jingle All the Way 10K in Washington DC!  I am so proud to have done the training (I only missed two run days in eight weeks and both of them were for travel reasons) and to have accomplished the race.  That said, it was nothing liked I hoped it would be.  I was so confident that I had done what I could do and that the day would go smoothly.  But...it didn't happen that way so much.

My day started out a 4:58 when I woke up (without the alarm) because I was so worried that I would miss the alarm.  So, I tried to fight myself back to sleep for the next 45 minutes, when I decided that wasn't happening, so I got up to get ready.  I got ready quickly and was out the door by 6:20 or so.  I walked out the door to frigid rain and fog.  That, however, I was expecting, so I wasn't phased by it.  Amy and I had been psychologically preparing each other for the weather by telling ourselves that the rain would just make our race that much more EPIC.  We would DEFEAT it, despite nasty weather.  We are, after all, athletes.

I got to my car and started on my way, following the maps that I had printed out from my sister's house to the race.  Because of the dark, fog, and rain, I missed my first turn and got lost right away.  An easy turn around and I was back on track, and it was 6:30, the time I had planned to leave anyway.  I was sure I was good to go.  I didn't get lost again, but I did hit traffic because of an accident, which slowed me down.  Then I was unable to get off the highway where I wanted to and had to get off at another place and turn around again.

Because I'd worked and trained so hard for this race, I was starting to panic that I wouldn't get there in time.  This was making me emotional, too.  So...finally at about 7:15, I got where I was supposed to be.  The race started at 7:30, so I was hoping to get a parking spot quickly and get to the starting line.  Well, five thousand other runners were hoping the same thing.  Well, most of them had actually already arrived and taken all the spots I'd been hoping to get.  I ended up finally finding a parking spot at least a mile and a half away from the race.  I wasn't sure if I needed to put money in the parking meter or not, so I decided to put some in to be on the safe side.  Unfortunately, $2.00 in quarters only bought me 53 minutes.  I was expecting my run to take me more than that, not to mention travel to and from the car, and probably a minute to cool down and celebrate my victory.  So, because I was already panic stricken and freaking out, this caused me to freak out more and wonder if my car would even be there when I got back and how much I'd have to pay to get it back if it weren't.

I started running to get to the race (which also made me freak out, because I wanted to be fresh at the starting line) and eventually saw a few more people with race bibs on.  (I'd picked mine up the day before, thank goodness.)  Finally, at close to 7:45 I made it to the starting line.  I really had to go to the bathroom and I still had to get my little chip on my shoe, but I was worried that I wouldn't be able to cross the starting line at that point (I knew that they were going to stop taking starters at a certain point so they could convert the mat for finish times).  As I was deciding not to go to the bathroom (it's only an hour and change, I told myself, and I'm a mom - I can hold it!) and bending down to put my chip on, I heard the lady over the loud speaker telling other runners, "Sure, go ahead.  It's safe to start!  Have a great race!"  I was ready to start and jogging toward the starting line, feeling frazzled, emotional, and out-of-control, I heard, "OK!  That's it!  No more official starters.  Don't cross the blue mat!"

"Oh, Lord, NOOO!"  I groaned inwardly.  I worked so hard for this and wanted to run.  I was able to start without an official time, and took off, all the while thinking that I should just turn around and go home.  Within the first mile and a half, I saw the first finishers coming back my way.  For the next mile, I ran past a stream of other (healthier, faster, more accomplished) runners.  Can you say "disheartening?"  But I kept telling myself that I did NOT train for eight weeks, run 62 miles in those eight weeks, and brave fog, rain, cold, and DC at 6:30 on a Sunday morning to give up.  So I begrudgingly kept on running.

And then.  Long about the 2.5 mile mark, I started to feel sick.  Really sick.  Like, looking around for a port-a-potty at the middle of the course kind of sick.  But there weren't any.  So, I had to walk really slowly just to calm my stomach down.  Which, in turn, made me even more emotionally crazy.  At that point, I was just walking and crying (which, at that point, was safe, because I was one of the only few people on the course right there at that point) and praying.  I walked for the next probably two miles (so disappointing!) so that I could make it to the end.  I began to get really convicted about my disappointment.  I was frustrated and disappointed because things weren't going as I'd hoped, because I had been so confident in myself.  "I can train. I can run.  I am an athlete.  I can run a race."  It had been the mantra running through my head for the last eight weeks.  And now, suddenly, my training couldn't hold a candle to the God of the Universe, who saw fit to slow me down for a while to talk to Him.  I started to realize that with the race (and a few other big things going on right now) that I can talk a good game, but I'm really depending on myself to take care of me.  And that made me pray and confess to God that I can't to anything without Him.  No matter how hard I work, no matter how hard I try, He's the success behind my endeavors.

Getting to that place, helped me feel far less frustrated about the day, but I still felt disappointed (and sick), so I tearfully walked the next mile or so.  Finally, at about the 4.5 mile mark I decided to try running again.  And slowly, very slowly, I ran.  I ran and ran and ran.  And you know what?  I was okay!  I had to run past workers cleaning up the race, and I had to run past some traffic that had started to drive on the course, but I kept running.  And finally, at about the 6 mile mark with the last 0.2 to go, I saw Amy!  She and her husband Steve were waiting for me on the sidelines.  She threw her bag to Steve and joined me to cross the finish line.  She pushed me to go faster, and we finished strong!

So, yes, I ran my first race and I finished a 10k.  It was nothing like I had hoped, but it was also a growing experience.  And I'm so proud of what Amy and I have accomplished.  (She finished in 1:10 and I finished about 1:30.)  We are athletes, and I'm looking forward to continuing my training for the next race. 

Amy and I at the finish line!  We did it!*

Oh, and my car was fine.  FYI, you don't need to feed the meters in DC on Sunday. 


*Photo credit goes to Steve.  Also, I stole this picture from Amy's blog.