Redemption Time

Does anyone remember this story from when I ran Seattle two years ago? The marathon is coming up this Sunday the 27th. I'm thinking that I might need to try and earn that 3:16:49 time that they accidentally tagged me with...

If you haven't read it or if you want to laugh at my expense yet again, here it is (dated November 2009):

I ran the Seattle Marathon on Sunday morning, and now, 24 hours later, I feel great. I really do. Absolutely fabulous. Just as long as I have at least 2 ibuprofen in my bloodstream and I'm not moving, then sure. I feel great.

There were seven of us runner-friends who traveled down to Seattle to run. I drove the van, and we only just about died once. Some moron wouldn't let me change three lanes at the same time to cut him off and take an exit. Obnoxious, eh?

I was the only one signed up to run the full marathon; the rest of the runners were signed up for the half. However, once we had all stayed up WAY too late on Saturday night, I felt run-down and sick to my stomach, and so I decided to run the half marathon instead.

Since it was too late to switch to the half on race day morning, I decided to just pin my full marathon bib on and put on my full marathon timing chip so I could at least prove that I paid for my registration.

Mark, Gord and I stuck together for the first 7km until a fork in the road steered halfers one way, and fulls the other. Since I had felt quite fresh once I started running, I thought I would ask a race marshall if I can just go ahead and take the full route.

Now, this is important: The reason that I would have to ask someone for permission is because the full marathon did not start until 45 minutes AFTER the half marathon had started.

So, I asked someone and she kinda shrugged and replied, "SURE!"

Off I went.

All by myself.

I ran all by myself for the next 23 kilometres.

I did not think about the implications of my decision until I hit the half-way point. All of a sudden, as I realized what was about to happen, I was filled with dread.

You see, the elite marathoners finish their race at around 2 hours and 30 minutes. They would hit the halfway point at 1 hour and 15 minutes. I hit MY halfway point at 1 hour 50 minutes, which means I had about 10 minutes before the elite would come up behind me with police escorts and sirens.

Yes, yes. This really happened. *sigh*

So off went my music and up went my anxiety. Waaaay up.

I shoulder-checked and ran backwards until finally I heard the sirens, at which point I just stepped off the race course and watched them all run by me. Gobs and gobs of extremely fast marathoners. These people are machines.

When I would see a large gap, I would hop back onto the course, and shoulder-check and run backwards some more, until I'd see more runners and then I'd hop back off.

Repeat 10,000,000,000,000 times.

And you know what would happen when I'd be on the race course? Crowds of people would cheer and shout, "Here comes the first WOMAN! THE FIRST WOMAN!!! ALL RIGHT!!! WAY TO GO!!!" Cheer cheer hooray hooray yay yay.

Meanwhile I would be making the "no, no, no-cut it out" motion with my hands. And then I would tell them that, "I started early."

Repeat 10,000,000,000,000 times.

This is a HUGE city race. These elite runners are dead serious. They win money.

So at this point I decided to just stop at an aid station and chat it up with some people. They were all friendly and they laughed along with me at my awkward situation as they ladled fresh Gatorade into the cups and lined them up on the table.

I sat and drank some Gatorade, laughed and chit-chatted, fixed my shoes, put some vaseline on my blisters. And then. AND THEN. I tossed my empty Gatorade cup into a giant 100 Litre container of fresh Gatorade, thinking that it was a garbage can.

And then I ran while I tried not to cry. I was HUMILIATED.

The elite women passed, and more and more runners went by me as well until I could eventually get back into a running rhythm. I still got told things like, "You're fourth in your category! The next woman is just around that corner! Go catch her!"

At this point I turned my music back on because I couldn't stand telling any more people that I STARTED EARLY!!!!!!

All in all, it was a great race because a) I had great friends supporting me, b) It is good fitness-maintenance for pre-Boston training and c) I think I came in ninth place and now I'm going to be on the cover of running magazines (they might need to spend a year or two photo-shopping my thighs, though).

I'm still shaking my head in disbelief...