Bummed

I know I've been quiet this week, and I've been dealing with some emotions.

I was super excited for the Murray 5k Moonlight Race last Saturday. It was a night run which I've never done before. Everyone was lit up with glow sticks and blacklight makeup. It was going to be epic. I felt great, despite minor injury, and couldn't wait to get running. I was getting squirrely!

The gun went off and my racing pal & I headed out. Everything was fine. The twinge in my achilles (sustained from Love Your Body 6k) was there, but it wasn't painful. My chiro had done a good job... and then we hit a good stretch of unpacked horse trail gravel. Suddenly, my race went spiraling out of control. Pain shot from my hip down through my Achilles. This was bad. I wasn't even a mile in and already hobbling. Once we got back to paved terrain, I tried running in grass, but I stepped in a hole. I swear, I'm not making this nightmare run up! At 3/4 mile, I wasn't even sure I could make it back to the pavillion where we started, since the course was looping back that direction. I tried to jog a little, but I couldn't go more than a few steps without thinking "Ow, ow, ow!" I had to stop. The clock was ticking in my head. This was bad. A couple of groups passed asking if I was okay if I needed help. I lied and told them it was just a cramp. I hobbled past the pavillion where the crowd was cheering. Already runners were returning from their 3.12 mile run (it had only been 21 mins!) I wanted to bite them like an angry dog after the mailman. So envious.

I considered turning in my runner tag right there. It would be so easy. Why do this to myself? Because quitting was unacceptable. So I grit my teeth and hobbled by the cheering crowd who were encouraging me "You're doing great."

I grimaced, unconvinced.

Around mile 2, I saw my running buddy heading back toward the finish line. I grinned and cheered her on. She was doing great. Me? Not so much.

I cringed as a lead bike light shined behind me. He directed me into the dark unknown, past sporadically placed volunteers, then down a really creepy trail (yay, more ungroomed horse trail gravel! Pain. Pain!)

The last volunteer sidled up beside me. I swallowed. "Am I the last one in?"
"We think so."

"Crap."

I have never been last. I know there's a first time for everything, but this was seriously embarassing. Luckily, the nice young kid (who was also a runner), got my mind off the pain and I was able to be distracted enough to walk out my kink. We passed mile 3 and I felt like I could run again. He stayed beside me, and I told him I was ready to bring on the sprint to the line. He was probably pretty surprised when this chubby little mama kicked on the afterburners. "Holy-- You ARE a sprinter!" (direct quote). His breathing accelerated and we both saw the finish line. "Don't make me beat you," he laughed, obviously loving the speed. I dug in and flashed under the finish. The camera man popped in front of me and asked if I could do that again, cuz he didn't get it in time. I waved him off. I just wanted to cry. I felt so humiliated that I was the last one in. My running pal (who always beats me, even if I'm 1/2 a mile ahead-- go figure!) congratulated me, and she always comments on how fast I smoke through that last bit before the wire, but I was just SO. ANGRY.

Reliving it now gets me upset all over again.

Please don't bother with "You were injured. You couldn't help it". Or "Wow, you pushed through 3 miles of a race totally trashed". I just feel like finishing last, even while injured, is like an Asian F (A- by American grades)-- unacceptable. Quitting is unacceptable, and coming in last is, too.

I've been hobbling around all week, hoping my issue clears up. Saw chiro Thurs and he did another laser treatment on my Achilles and adjusted my foot & ankles. I really want to do Highway to Hale on the 29th, but I don't know if my legs will allow it. I feel like getting a good time in Hwy2Hale would give me some sense of vindication.

On a bright note, I picked up 30 lbs of grass fed/pastured critter today from a CSA Share from Christiansen Farms.
OMG!!! THERE WAS BAAAAAAAAAACON!!!! You should have heard the sound that came out of my mouth when I opened the little white package "pork side". IT'S LIKE CHRISTMAS IN OCTOBER!

When I got home, I ran to the corner and back. Feels like my foot is healing up, so I'll see if I can't pay for Highway to Hale today or Monday.