I don't have any medals to show, but I give myself one for getting out there today and continuing tradition. Last year I ran the Cinderella 30K at San Joaquin Miller Redwood Park in Oakland. I had so much fun I decided to make it a yearly tradition. That was also the run that got me hooked on trail running so in many ways it's a very dear one to me. I signed up and trained accordingly. I did hill work, worked on my endurance and speed runs and lifted weights to strengthen my legs because climbing 3500' is no stroll around the park. Last weekend I had an amazing 13 mile run (10 miles run at tempo pace). I was charged and ready.
I've been sick this week. It started with a sore throat on Tuesday that turned into severe head-pounding congestion, vigorous coughing, body aches and chills by Wednesday afternoon. I spent Thursday and Friday bedridden and miserable. I don't remember a time when a cold put me out like that. I made a decision on Thursday night to withdraw my registration. I know myself too well. If I commit to something I drag myself out there and push through the distance. I knew it wasn't wise so I made the call, and I'm glad.
I fought this bug like a mad woman. I made a big batch of chicken soup with tons of garlic, onion, turmeric and oregano. I rubbed oregano oil on the soles of my feet, upped my dose of C & D3 & zinc, took some echinacea, and homeopathic cold medicine, drank lots of water with lemon and rested. By Friday evening I hit a turning point and got a strange surge of energy. I found myself wishing I could still go out and run so I decided I would. I decided to unofficially run the half marathon course, early enough to avoid most runners, and I packed all my necessities because there would be no aid stations available to me. The first mile almost made me turn around. What was I doing? My chest burned, I was gasping for air and felt a bit disoriented. I slowed down a bit and that seemed to help. Once I set into pace the first half of the course was quite lovely. I looked at the time and figured that if I clocked in 12 minute miles I would be right on track to catch the beginning of Isaac's game. That motivated me to keep on pace.
By mile six I began gasping for air again and the chest burning returned. I knew the big hills were just up mile 8 so I decided to fuel and hydrate as often as I could. My pace dropped to a shuffle, and then a walk. Somewhere around mile 9 I coughed out a lung and the first batch of male runners passed me. Shortly behind them was the first female. I was elated for her but she wasn't too happy to see me. She scanned me head to toe looking for my bib. She was sizing me! I smiled and said: "You are in the lead, go get 'me boys." She zoomed past me and faded in the distance. I assured myself that she was 15 years my minor and in good health.
It is indeed a beautiful course! And a challenging one at that. For every up hill there is a steeper downhill, and I'm more afraid of those. Around mile 12 a guy in front of me lost his footing and swallowed dirt. It was a painful fall I could tell. It reminded me why I'm so careful on the downhills. The last mile was nice and flat. I could hear the energy at the finish line. I cut off the trail shortly before encountering it and went right to my car. I felt physically fine and my heart was content.
Happy Mother's Day to me!
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