Numbar 7

Committing to a race a month, of at least of at least a half marathon or more, was dumb.  What was I thinking?  I'm only in month five, but for some reason I sit on the cusp of running my seventh race.  This is the killer stretch for the year.  In a month and a half, four races, three of which are marathons, well provided I can finish this next one.

The good thing about being tired, it's easy to make excuses.  That's my excuse!  Of course, at mile twenty one, things get even more tiring.  I'm fast forwarding some, but this is point where it finally dawned on me that maybe doing so many races, wasn't the best idea.  Cool on paper, but on the pavement it's got much more sweat and tears.

The Bayshore Marathon was planned to be the crown jewel in all the races this season.  Last year, I just missed my goal time and I figured it would be the race this year with the potential for the best things.  Even to the point of following in my footsteps to recreate the day.  Same hotel, same group of friends, and most importantly the same pre-race meal.  You know, the place that last year almost started a mutiny, but this year my same crew was bragging about it!

Waiting at the starting line, still not feeling "it".  This makes how may marathons in a row?  Nobody reads these things, so I'm going to document it, but THE most important event of race morning didn't happen either.  I've been hush about it lately, but I'm talking about the morning bathroom visit didn't happen, again. This makes so many races in a row now, I think maybe I need to start training in this area.  It doesn't help that CT has been putting pressure on herself to do well on this run, she may have even predicted herself beating me.  I can't remember for sure or if this her pattern now, I think she always assumes she's gonna beat me.

Bang goes the gun.  Maybe the tired excuse was used a bit early, but I had already given myself a pass for this race.  Try to have fun, enjoy it, and whatever happens, happens.  Mile one is always slow, lots of turns and generally too crowded to move well.  Mile two things are spreading out and it's easier to find the path you want.  Just as I'm about to lock in my comfortable pace, who do I see but CT and her partner in crime. Granted, I'm a little behind my pace, but somehow they were still ahead of me.  Either CT is feeling it today or she's going out a little fast, not to mention making sure I feel the heat of the target on my back the whole way, so much for trying to have fun.

The miles keep cranking and things feel very relaxed, this is good.  Each mile I'm banking fifteen seconds, sometimes thirty seconds.  Of course, I did the same thing last year.  At the turn around point, last year I could already tell the battle had started.  This year, going into the half way point, I felt relaxed and besides a little pain in my arch, things felt good.  Well, until I started seeing the runners who were behind me.  Both CT and her accomplice were right on my heels!  Holy sh!t, I'm running faster than the pace I need and they are right on me.  I've got two battles coming.

Mile eighteen is here and I'm still going.  This is the point last year where I started to die out, I can remember the exact spot.  My foot is definitely bothering me, but I'm still clocking miles better than the pace I need.  If I can just get to mile twenty-two, I know even though I crashed there in the Martian Marathon, I was still able to pull out the time I wanted.

Mile twenty is my nemesis and it's here.  Two marathons, a 25K, and seventy five percent done with marathon three in a month and a half caught up with me, I decided I was tired.  No shame, no bad feelings, simply I needed a break.  This wasn't the typical punch to the face hitting the wall, this was a much softer blow to the ego of you've done enough.  Race pace ceased, even easy running pace stopped, this was going to be another walk and run to the finish.

Walking gives plenty of time to think and I'll be honest, I did check over my shoulder a couple of times making sure CT wasn't within eye-sight.  I don't even know what the point of checking was, because if I saw her coming, the wheels were off and there was nothing I could do besides tripping her, had she been coming. While certainly not the way I wanted to finish this race, I continued to chug along.  The closer I got the end, the more frequently I'd check my watch.  Even though the wheels came off earlier than the Martian Marathon, I was still ahead of my time, I could still PR this thing.

The last mile, there was some sole searching, internal fighting, and will power.  The pain in my foot was there. Remembering this part of the course last year and also struggling was fresh in my mind.  Dammit, how long is this damn mile?  Then thoughts of running all this way, only to miss getting a PR would feel worse than any current pain, yet as motivating as that should be, my body not listening to me to even give me just a little more.  Just as I was about to shut down and walk again, almost within eye-sight of the finish line, I heard it, people cheering my name!  First it was a couple of the Superstars, then around the next corner, fellow running friends who had also suffered the months of training.  If they were giving energy, I didn't get any, but the support did prevented me from quitting one last time.  That was a huge boost to a tired heart.  I needed that.

Crossing the line, I knew I PR'd.  That alone, makes the pain go away. Actually, it didn't.  I did forget about the foot that was bothering me briefly, but that was quickly replaced with calf cramps so bad that I resorted to sitting on the ground waiting for CT to finish.  Even though I was disappointed in not being able to finish this race how I wanted, the calf pain told me I ran it hard, not to mention looking like a salt block.  Five minutes faster than last year and a minute better than my previous PR, all on tired legs.  Maybe there is something to the lucky number seven, this being my seventh marathon and is now the bar.