I only had two goals for the half marathon yesterday: 1. Cross the finish line on my own two feet-- not on a stretcher. Not being dragged and 2. Don't use the porta potty. Seems doable, right? Here's the caveat. I haven't run more than a mile since Jack was about 2 months old. I've walked 10 miles for some long walks but running not so much and I hadn't done that since July. Plus, I have the world's smallest bladder and a portapotty phobia. So, now you can see why running 13 miles without tinkling was perhaps out of the range of possibilities. But, I signed up for the all woman's race thinking I'd have enough time to prep but unfortunately with other responsibilities and Tommy's work schedule being such that I couldn't train in evenings or in mornings, I just pushed it to the backburner. I wasn't exactly sure why I was determined to do it. But for some reason I was and by the end of the race I had it figured out.
I met up with a friend at the start line. 7 am. NOT my best time of day. She looks like marathon-running barbie. Meanwhile, I was wearing glasses and looking like a scared mole creature. We lined up behind the signs that said "10 min mile pace". This of course was a joke. I knew I had to go faster than 15 min miles or officials would pull you off the course. The shame of that alone would propel me forward I figured so that I could run at least 14 minute miles if I interval ran. 10 minute miles? Ha.
Immediately, in the back of the start up line crowd, a woman turned to me and burst with "What the hell did I sign up for?" Oh. My. Gosh. This was the "freak out" part of the crowd apparently. Well, at least I was in the right spot. Others in the "10 min mile pace" also turned out to be like me-- the women who were too busy with life as a woman to train properly and would have stood behind a sign (had it existed) that said "don't know what we were thinking".
I kept up with Barbie and her elite group of fitness goddesses for about 2 miles. I was darned proud. I told her she had to keep going on. She put her arm around me. Told me she would run across a couple of streets if I needed her, just text her, and she'd see me at the finish.
Something happened to me on that race. Women of all different shapes, sizes, ages and ethnicities were all running their own race. Our husbands, children, co-workers, sisters, friends neighbors and many, many strangers were out there on an early Saturday morning cheering us on. It gave me wings. Lots of women passed me. They felt like sisters after a few miles. We were all running our best, doing the best we could, challenging ourselves and rocking it with the training we could squeeze in for ourselves between caring for families and doing all the things we women give of our fullest. Afterwards we'd go back as moms and grandmas. Co-workers, teachers and friends. There is sisterhood in motherhood. There is sisterhood in womanhood. And there we ran with the policeman holding back traffic to yell for us to keep going. I'm going to just carry that feeling with me for some time. Meanwhile, the Huz was texting me "you'll hurt your kidneys! Don't overdo it!!!" Oh, geez. He's going to be fun when we're like 70. Couldn't help but get the giggles at my doctor husband who is protective of all my internal organs.
So Goal #1 was going swimmingly. I was running 8 minute miles at first. Say, what? Yep. Interval running and walking and I was making it. One man yelled "Go, Nicole!" Oh, my gosh. Who in the heck was THAT? Maybe Tommy's co-worker. As I passed him I was so baffled. Couldn't place him for anything. I wished I had just pretended I knew him and had been a little friendlier. So, when Man #2 yelled "Yay Nicole!" I slowed down and said in a voice of mocked recognition "Well! Hey, how are you!" As if I hadn't seen him for a while. Looked down. Name was under my bib number. Doh. Keep running, dumb-dumb.
Goal #2 was decidedly not going well. I had to tinkle and the more I ran the more it was becoming urgent. A sign I passed said "Tell your legs they are not hurting" I tried it with my bladder. Ineffective. I passed a portapotty. It glared at me. A saphire monument illuminated in the October sun, surrounded by bobbing runners who were feigning "keeping their muscles warm" and looking like gyrating savages before their temple of the God of Relief. I have a 2 year old. Bounce all you want ladies. That's the potty dance. I shook my head in pity for my fallen sisters who would be tinkling in a box in front of Duke University as hundreds of women ran by them and wondered if they were going #1 or #2. You won't claim me-portapotty. Not today! I ran faster. Luckily we ran into a more wooded region. Those who hesitate are lost. Who said that? Virgil. My guess Virgil because he knew that the seventh realm of Dante's infero was in fact a portajohn. This happens to frequently get lost in translation. I'm sticking with this interpretation. Anywho, saw woods. Ran into woods. Tinkled on a Duke tree. Probably mooned the policeman. Didn't care. Texted the Huz to let him know I peed in the wood. He texts back "Great. Hope they got that for the news." Silly husband. I was worried for a sec his co-worker would have seen me but then remembered he was really just a stranger. Name on bib. Cool. Ran back. Goal #2 --Wiiiiinnnnnnerrrrrrr!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I was rocking and rolling. Kept texting pictures and messages to my mom. "Here's the mountain that we never knew about in the middle of downtown Durham." "Here's the sign for mile 8" "Here are the woods I tinkled in". Mom kept sending back encouraging messages "Yay! mommy!" The woman had stayed up almost all night because she slept over so I could leave early while Tommy was at the hospital. She took a coughing kid into her bed so it wouldn't wake me up and then she watched all three for several hours on no sleep. The kids would randomly call to wish me luck. Tommy called at mile 12. "Honey, I wanted to let you know the dogs are at the groomers. And, I'm picking up organic weed killer this afternoon. So proud of you!" Since I had c-sections and didn't have the opportunity to properly fuss at him during labor I took the opportunity to do so then. "I have just run 12 miles!!!!!! I don't care about your danged weedkiller!!!!!" Called him back. "Actually, thanks for going organic. I know it goes against your frugal nature. Good night shift? Love you." Tommy B. my biggest cheerleader kicked it in. "Honey, sooo proud of you! That's amazing. Sorry talking about the yard." The man is all business after working a night shift in the ER. Silly, husband. Passed a woman who looked at me like I was insane.
Stuck out a couple of miles with Ms. Optomistic and her running partner Ruthie. "We're almost there Ruthie!" "Here comes a corner ruthie!" "Downhill ruthie, we can do this!!!" Pretended I was Ruthie. Until of course someone yelled "Go Nicole." Momentarily tried to place them. Bib, umm. Hello?! Didn't pretend to know them this time. Just smiled.
Finish Liiiinnnnneee!!!!!! 2 hours 46 minutes. That's a 5 mph pace. Decent. I believe in skidding in. If you're gonna run a race, you ought to be roughed up. And I was. I sprinted it. I mean, y'all I booked my tail. Passed like 8 people. The announcer yelled "And here comes Nicole!!!!!" Got my flower medal and went through the drive through at Subway. I did it! I can't believe I survived! I can't believe I peed in the woods again! Again, because once when I was preggers this was also necessary when Grace was in a parade. Another story. Move on.
Got home and handed over my medal to a waiting Grace and Benjamin who met me at the door clapping along with my mom and dad. Tommy had already fallen asleep after his night shift. "This is for you three" I said. Finally realized why I ran that race. Every breath I take is for them. They'll understand that one day when they have children of their own. I looked at Grace who was old enough to get it. "You can do anything you put your mind to, right?" "Right mommy." She looked up to me and smiled. Maybe I felt like I needed to run 13 miles, risk kidney failure (according to the huz) and pee on a tree to make that point stick. I told her I'd give the medal to them just like Billy Coleman in the book we just read, Where the Red Fern Grows came home with a trophy from the coon hunt and gave it to his sister. Grace wore her medal to school. So did Barbie's daughter. When I picked her up she was telling the teacher who helped her in the car "My mommy ran 13 miles." I thought I might be able to run another 13 after that.
Mom had cheered me on every mile. She's been cheering since my first steps. Tommy had a dozen red roses and a snickers bar for me. When he were alone he confirmed that he thought I was a nut. Turned my head back, kissed me and whispered in my ear "I'm so proud of you". The man is my rock. He's used to me being a nut. He expects it and insists on it. The morning I took my psych GRE, Jack was 9 weeks and had reflux. I had slept 3 hours and was in tears because I was sure I'd fail. He looked at me, grabbed my shoulders and said "Stop. You can do this. Go." And pushed me out the door without saying anything else. Oh, I thought. Ok. I guess that's right. Aced it. We all need people to confirm we are in fact nuts, have that expectation and hold us to it. Tommy and my mom knew I'd finish it and that's one reason I just kept on keeping on. It wasn't a question.
I've taken two steaming hot baths, slept for hours after the race and have eaten everything in sight. What. A. Run. Can barely walk. I can't wait to cheer people on at another race. We all run our own race. And, I'm thoroughly convinced that the pearly gates have a big "Finish Line" written on them with some balloons and maybe a band and some dads with cowbells. I'm planning on skidding in. If however, I see a portajohn, I'll know that perhaps, I've ended up a little due-south.
Happy racing, y'all.
