Finally getting a chance to recap this, and it's kinda boring and a little gross and a lot long, apologies, but I want documentation that I did a 6.5+ mile race. So please forgive me that I got all Dear Diary with this entry, and seriously, no pressure to read. :)
We went on Saturday to the park because our race sign-up included free admission to the park. I had never been before, and the park is super fun. I think I liked it even more because it wasn't in the summer and wasn't unpleasantly warm so you could comfortably walk around and wait in line and then totally freeze on the coasters because of the wind. :) We all ate pasta for dinner, and then finished off the night with smores. I also learned that I make a combination of the TROLLOLOL and the Let Me Love You faces when pictures are taken on rollercoasters, and Andrew makes a face like FOR FRODOOOO!!!! so with the two of us combined I have a feeling that the employees of the park had a good time looking at our pictures later.
We stayed overnight at a La Quinta near the Harrisburg airport and I spent the evening pacing and laying out several combinations of clothing, and also attempting about 15 times to pin my bib. I'm REALLY bad at this, guys. Like, questioning-the-existence-of-the-spatial-awareness-sections-of-my-brain bad at this. If anyone has any tips on how to do this better (aside from handing it off to someone else) please share. I'm not yet ready to invest in a belt, so I'll be pinning my bibs for a while. This is assuming I continue to enter races and I plan to. I am Regulus about this. Regulus = more serious than Sirius
ANYWAY
The bib did at least look pretty before I mangled it with metal.
I am also a really big fan of having your name on it because then you get people shouting your actual name during the race and that is super great.
We got to the park mad early, and I actually abandoned my group because I was trying to find where to go for the halfway point. Andrew got the first half because I made him do this and he preferred the first half so second half for me. It was not at all obvious where to go, and I made a friend who looked just as lost as I did, and after asking like 4 different people we finally found the buses. I felt like an idiot because they're BUSES, it's like not being able to find the T-Rex at Jurassic Park, but we got an e-mail from the race organizers the next day that was all "btdubs apparently not putting up any signs about the buses made it tricky for people sooo let us know if that was tricky and OUR BAD SORRY." Felt less dumb after that.
Got off buses, waited for a while, got cold then warm repeat x5, then saw Andrew running up, dragged him through the arch, handed off my jacket, and began to run. The first section was a hill. Not cool, Hershey. Two friends (who had already run the first half) caught up to me and we ran for 3 something-miles with no problems and lots of cheering, but then I had to walk. Wasn't feeling so hot. I continued the run/walk process for the rest of the race, and probably walked a total of three-quarters of a mile. My legs were fine, my lungs were fine, my stomach was NOT happy. The end of the race was in Hershey's stadium, and I picked it up for the last two-tenths of a mile or so and finished in under 3 hours. Still not feeling well.
Grabbed the water and food they handed to us and consumed like none of it because my stomach was not having it. Andrew and I head off to drive home and I make him take a picture of me because I want proof that I did this, dammit.
You know what's not pictured? The next three hours. Which were awful because I overdid it and took in like no salt/electrolytes/etc. We're like half an hour on the road and I make Andrew pull over because I'm pretty darn sure I'm going to be sick in the next five minutes. I never actually got sick because my body had nothing to throw up, but I was so miserable I was actively trying to make myself sick just to get it over with. And I HATE throwing up. It's the worst thing that can happen to me. I would rather break a bone or get several dozen stitches or like, get punched in the face. If I am a little nauseous I will sometimes start crying, so you can imagine what I was like during this ordeal. Shaking, crying, apologizing. In short, a mess. I'm getting texts from my mom that are all "I'M SO PROUD OF YOU" and I'm all "I'M DYING" and I'm really not dying I'm just an idiot who didn't hydrate or eat properly and me and this guardrail are like best friends for the next ten minutes and my dad's calling his friend who runs marathons and he's like "THIS TOO SHALL PASS" and I'm like "NO I'M GOING TO DIE HERE ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD" and Andrew's trying to nap.
After half an hour on the side of a road outside Lancaster, I get back in because let's try to at least get closer to home, and I figure I'll tell him to pull over again if it gets bad. This gets requested in like 15 minutes, but I wanted to see if I could drink anything with sodium or anything because water was making me feel worse. Gas station it is. And again, apologies for oversharing, but any water I was drinking was immediately getting urinated back out. Had some sips of Vitamin Water, and then realized I should not be drinking very much more. I run in and get actual little salt packets, and proceed to eat two of them basically straight over the next twenty minutes. Not pleasant but I did feel better pretty much immediately, and then kept getting better. Andrew napped.
Back on the road and home eventually. Andrew got to sleep in his bed, finally, and I continue to fight off nausea for seriously a good 7 or 8 hours after the actual race is over. The longest distance I ran to prep for this was just shy of 5 miles, and I really thought I'd be totally fine, but bumping up an extra 1.5+ miles on race day is dumb. I have since purchased and used a couple things after a 4-mile treadmill run to make sure this never happens again (energy chews, and this stuff called Nuun, which was a suggestion I heard at a doctor's appointment and never acted on, but seriously look this stuff up). During training, I did feel nauseous on any run over like 50 minutes or so, but I didn't think anything of it. Apparently it was a warning sign, and I need to replenish salt and some calories on longer runs if I don't want my digestive system to be like I AM STOMACH, DESTROYER OF WORLDS.
But you know what? It was still totally worth it. I was miserable, and the weekend and even race day were still freaking awesome. I could not have done any of this five months ago, and even though I will probably always be a back-of-the-pack type, I finished the stupid thing. By this time next year, I'd love to run a full 13.1. I think I can officially call myself a runner, and I plan to keep doing this.
I also need to continue to find races with finishers' medals shaped like candy. Wish me luck.
