Let's recap this, shall we? (An Obligatory, phoned in, "race report.")

As I sat in a bus watching the sideways rain before last weekend’s CIM, there was just one thought running through my head:

WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING HERE?

I’ve spent the past year half-assing my training. I’ve been busy with other things like work and beer. It happens. Yet somehow I found myself registered for two marathons this fall. Hamilton is a 2 hour drive. That one made since sense. (Ed – NOBODY POINTED OUT THAT TYPO? Come on guys. You should have. That’s inbred troglodyte level shit.) But what on fucking Earth possessed me to register for a marathon in California a month after that one?

I DON’T FUCKING KNOW. An excuse to take advantage of a cheap flight to California? The fact that I’m a moron? I don’t know. But here is what happened in bulleted form (and I don’t care enough to make sure I’m consistently using the active voice. SUCK ON IT):

1. I didn’t run very much between Hamilton and CIM – only about 100 miles. This included a 16 mile long run and a 10k race, which I finished in an appropriately mediocre 42:30.

2. I was a little drunk the Thursday before the CIM. I spent a lot of time walking around the next day. I spent much of Saturday trying to stretch every muscle in my leg. My ass hurt. So did my left shin. Not a great feeling.

3. I wore flip flops on the bus to Folsom to keep from getting my feet TOO wet beforehand. (I won’t bother describing the conditions. You’ve heard it by now: IT RAINED. A lot.) After I made a bathroom run I nearly face planted on the concrete after tripping and hitting the top of my foot while attempting to get back on the bus in the deluge. It hurt. Badly. I put my shoes on after that. I guess it was nothing but this is not what you need 30 minutes before a marathon.

4. I planned to go out slowly with the 3:25 pace group because there was no 3:20 pace group. (I understand this is often the case at races because it’s not a men’s BQ time. But really? THERE IS A HUGE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN 3:15 AND 3:25. 3:15 is too scary. Give me a 3:20 pacer!) This did not work so well due to the fact that many tall men elbowed me between the eyes while I jumped over garbage bags and slow people. (WHY ARE THERE NO CORRALS AT A RACE THE SIZE OF CIM?) So I sped up a bit. The next thing I knew? I was going faster than I should. But it was okay because my ass stopped hurting.

5. There was a bad headwind between 7-10. I began to worry that I’d have to crumple up onto the side of the road and die. I happened to latch on to a group of women who were running comfortably enough to talk. I focused on the back of their feet and noticed a guy in a red vest doing the same thing. I forgot about the wind and things felt better.

6. The headwind died down. The rain seemed to die down as well. I got scared that it would stop completely and I’d overheat and probably die of being fat and from the northeast. (Note: this is hyperbole.) As we got closer to the halfway mark, I latched onto the two women and the guy in red came with. I had no intention of losing them.

7. There were Hare Krishnas on the course at the halfway point. It was weird. I went through in just over 1:40. So…as long as I didn’t die I could break 3:20.

8. I stepped in two pot holes around mile 14. I turned my left ankle. The same foot I banged before the race. I may have screamed “FUCK WATCH THE POTHOLES!” or maybe it wasn’t quite that eloquent. But it was bad enough that I had to slow down briefly to shake it off.

9. I finally talk to the women I’ve latched onto at about the 15 mile point. The guy tells us he’s on board too. We discuss the lack of the 3:20 pacer and formalize working together. OMG BEST IDEA EVER. Seriously. The miles flew by. We passed a lot of people. We sped up just a bit.

10. Just prior to mile 20, one woman drops back. We’re down to 3. I push ahead with the other woman who is running her first marathon. The guy drops back a couple miles later. I’m not really paying attention to pace, but shit is beginning to catch up a bit. I tell my impromptu running partner I’m going with her as long as I can and we continue to talk a bit. It helps…for the most part. We see a sign that says “HOT COFFEE” and decide that sounds good. Damn, best running partner ever!

11. We’re approaching 23. I know its about to flatten out. But fuck, I don’t feel great. My running partner tells me she sees a teammate up ahead who she’d like to beat. We work to get up there and pass her. She thanks me, I thank her back and then she takes off. I want to go with her but we’re at about 24 miles and shit, I’m scared I’m going to fall apart.

12. The last two miles? They went. I want to die. I am now alone for the first time in miles and it feels weird. I am not passing people with my usual vigor. No, I just want to die. I’m scared I’m running like 10 minute pace. A woman passes me. WOMEN NEVER PASS ME TOWARDS THE END. (In case you forgot: I’M A WOMAN.) Fuck. I refuse to look at my watch and keep forging ahead, even though I feel gross. Once I realize the finish line is right there I muster together some sort of kick and pass two women noticing that again I’m in the 3:18s.

13. I officially finished in 3:18:08. 8 seconds slower than last month. Had I stuck with the woman I was running with I would have PR’d and dipped under that pesky 3:18 barrier.

14. The sun came out about a half hour after I finished. Which frankly? PERFECT TIMING. There is NOTHING worse than running in wet clothes in warm rain with the sun beating down on you. Ew.

Here are the splits. You’ll notice that other than the elbow-filled first mile and the headwind miles? I continue to be really fucking consistent:

Look: I know. I phoned in this race report as I’ve phoned in pretty much everything over the past few months. I can’t explain it. Hell, I can’t explain why I still have a blog at this point.

But here are the things I want to highlight:

*It was a shitty few months and I’m rebounding slightly.
*Go figure, sometimes it pays to run with people! I lucked out finding a group of people running my pace.
*A pair of 3:18s on half-assed training about a month apart signals I can probably run faster, huh? Fuck. That’s kind of scary. Especially since it means I really do need to lose some weight.
*Once I got going, I didn’t mind the rain. It would have been too hot otherwise. Living in a shitty climate has its advantages because really, I’ve run in far worse than that. Though that was a pretty miserable pre-race situation.
*There were probably a billion port-a-johns (again, hyperbole)….yet people lined up for the first couple. Oy.
*So, Homeland has gone kind of off the rails, huh? Whoops, changed the subject.