13.1 miles in 2:01:31... and living to tell it!

So the race began...

Fortunately, it was a typical cattle herd movement getting through the first .25 miles so I was FORCED to go slower than I tend to go from the getgo. And then at about mile 1.5 it opened up enough for me to realize that holy moly, I am all alone, with 12 miles to go, and NO iPod.

Dear God, This is me. I know I haven't wrote, spoke, called, or prayed in a long time but I am here now. I am searching deep down in that big fat gut of mine for this power that I know I have. Help a sister out and let it shine! Dude... please. Love, me.

Sorry for the Eat. Pray. Love. interlude but that was just about what it was like. I hit a moment of panic and then I regained composure, it stopped raining, and I smiled. I would do this, dammit. It was happening and there was nothing that was going to stop me. (Nike ad, what?)

Kevin was planted just after mile 2... and being the mayor that he is, he was distracted screaming to someone else he knew as I was approaching him so I spotted him first and immediately ran over to him and yelled "HEY, KEVIN... BLAH BLAH BLAH", in some incomprehensible, slurring manner when what I really meant to say was "Meet me at the oranges at the finish... and no I don't need my iPod" but as I raced away with my passed off iPod... I didn't really care. It was a nice pick me up to see his face at that point.

Miles 3, 4, 5... good stuff. I was in a zone. Going through the motions, one foot in front of the other. My pace was under 9 minutes - I knew I'd have to slow it down for the middle chunk... cuz I run like a girl.

No, really.

My shirt was the best thing to happen to me. It was hot pink and, it proved to be the most amazing conversation starter, which is one of my favorite aspects of the road racing community... the camaraderie. The slogan was on the back of my shirt so as people would pass me (awesome), many took the time to chat for a few minutes about the shirt. And in 13.1 miles, we collectively came up with a number of scenarios that could be tagged onto I Run Like A Girl.



...perfectly.
... cuz Duh.
...but I drink like a man.
...faster than a cheap pair of panty hose.
...eat my dust (buster).
...who just beat you.
...whose got something to prove.
...and I'm damn proud of it.

These conversations made me smile... and therefore inspired me to keep going. Crazy or dramatic sounding. But true.

...

I trucked through mile 6 and 7 and just as I hit mile 8, I started to crumble a little. My emotions were getting the better of me and I actually was hit with the urge to cry... but not out of pain or exhaustion... simply because I was DOING IT. I was absolutely 100% going to complete this challenge.

I fought back the tears and focused on getting to mile 8 where I had bargained that I would stop at the water station and eat the gu. So, naturally, getting from mile 7 to mile 8 seemed like a marathon in and of itself. I was struggling and had some tightness in my chest. I was going at about a 9 minute/mile pace and was a little bit heartbroken that I couldn't up the ante at this point. I just did not have it in me.

I got to the stop, grabbed the water, sip, sip, sip and then downed the gu... but really, I never stopped running... like I said I would. Whoops. I was doing this quasi run thing... sort of like a crazy power walker, I suppose. And - I ate the gu after the water which was pretty much like getting peanut butter down a pasty mouth. Lovely. But, I managed.

Mile 8 and 9 were pretty uneventful. We traipsed through neighborhoods that in all of my 29 years living in RI, I had never been to... so that was interesting.

The scattered fans throughout the race were positively wonderful and inspiring. My favorite fans were the kids with outstretched hands, just waiting for a runner to give in to the "good game hand slap". I slapped (well, it was more of a sloppy-reach-out-and-tap-a-finger-or-two-slap) every single hand I saw because... this was another smile instigator and anything that made me smile, fueled me to keep going.

After mile 10, I knew that my Dad was going to be stationed on the road, ready to arm me with some more ammo... hand slap in position. I rounded the bend and with rather dismal weather (not really raining but just overall yucky), the fans were few and far between so despite my hot pink shirt and the thinning group of runners, I spotted my Dad before he saw me. I began fist pumping in the air and pointing to him in that you, you, you, Robert DeNiro sort of way. Then he saw me and mirrored my motions (chimp like, awesome.).

Looking good, Bim, looking good.

Hand slap.

Thanks, Dad... thanks for coming out!

That was about mile 10.3 and then I was in the home stretch. A little over 2 to go and I would be done.

Holy hell. That was the toughest 2.8 miles I have ever ran in my life. It was far more of a mental challenge to keep going because I was exhausted and crazy emotional and alone. The crowd of runners had really thinned out and I really had a lot of room to myself... which also meant I didn't have anyone to make breathless small talk with.

At about mile 11, a friend of mine caught up with me and we chatted for a few yards... I told her to go do her thing because I was dragging at that point and needed to reserve any remaining reserves for mile 12. She bolted off and then it was me, alone, again.

But, we were going downhill. Making our final descent into the Providence area. Please bring your seat backs into their full and upright locked position...

...and frickin' RUN, Sarah, RUN!

I was moaning ang groaning for the final mile. The detail police officers blocking traffic were practically yelling at us all to "KEEP RUNNING" and as much as I wanted to collapse, it helped. The home stretch was upon me and as I rubbernecked at a poor guy battling a late race injury... I tapped into my reserve and picked up the pace for the last .3 or .4 miles...

Bystanders gave heartfelt words of encouragement... I grumbled Oye yoy yoy back at them but kept smiling.

I rounded the bend and saw the finish line. Victory was mine and there were hundreds of people to witness. I sprinted as hard as I could for about 100 yards and heard family, friends, and strangers shouting for me.


The photo quality quite accurately depicts how I felt at this very moment, approaching the finish... blurry, pink, and hopeful.

I crossed at 2:01:31 and immediately started to cry. I was filled with an enormous sense of pride, emotion, and accomplishment.

I bent down to unlace my sneakers and turn in my time chip... and I let the tears flow, breathing heavy, and quietly crying. I wanted to get it out while I was on the ground, hidden from my friends... not sure what I was embarrassed about but I did not want to be dramatic. But, as I stood up, right in front of me were Melissa, Dot, and Patrick and I nearly lost it and then, I looked to my right and saw my Dad and my Kevin standing just beyond the gate with a huge proud grin and then... I sort of lost it...


There's no crying in RUNNING!

Oh well. Part of running like a girl, right?



Me, the kissy face little runner bee "ranked" at #647 (of 1387), folks! GO ME! And GO ALL 1387 of us for getting out there in what was supposed to be a weather cooperative day.

Its late in the race day evening and I am on cloud nine. Cramps and exhaustion no matter. I am soaring. I have not had such a proud moment in a very long time, if ever. And I have basked in it all day.