all effort. no payoff.

well. that didn't go quite as i'd planned.

up at 5am, glass of water, cuppa joe, pb sandwich. all goes well #ifyouknowwhatimean. i settle on long sleeve shirt under team singlet with shorts. (this turned out to be a good choice.) we get there in plenty of time to park and use the restroom at the convention center. when we line up, it's slightly cool for shorts, but by the time we've gone a couple miles, i'm warming up and the sun is coming out. i am enjoying having the long sleeves pulled over my hands.

on top of it all this good, we lay down a few miles at even 10's.

all signs point to YES.

but then...

descartes is running the half, so we think we'll have 13 miles together. however, at mile 5 he needs a break, and i don't want to slow down, so this is it. splitsville at mile 5. i feel the beginnings of chest pressure, so i ask him after he finishes to get my inhaler and meet me somewhere with it. i am thinking that a puff will be nice anytime. not desperate, mind you, but nice.

off i go, on my own. (by "my own" i mean with the group descartes and i had been with.) the wind, which had been threatening all morning, picks up around mile 8, growing more and more insistent. by mile 11, i realise the puffer has become a necessity rather than an option, but i remain confident that descartes will find me at some point.

in case you don't know, this is how needing the puffer plays out: more effort translates to less payoff. like i said, we'd been laying down perfect 10's. i carry on with the 10's miles 5-11, and while these are challenging, they are not outrageous. 12 and 13... uh-oh. i am pretty much barely hanging on. #notgood at 13.1 (the half-full split), i am done. i mean, done like toast, not done like i quit the race. haha. be serious. i am halfway finished, right? what would be the point in quitting?? although i am no longer with descartes, i am fairly certain he'll find me with the puffer at or before 18. so, i turn the corner away from the finish and dig in.

and... start laying down 12's. and, 13's. and, other miles i don't even want to contemplate. by now, the wind is fully in play -- a couple times rounding corners, i literally feel my feet pushed out from under me. (no, i don't fall.) when going into the wind, i imagine i look like a cartoon character running, running, and watching my destination shrink away from me.

like i said: all effort, no payoff.

amazingly, miles are still melting away well enough. sure, i am partially delirious, but it's an interesting enough course through lots of different types of neighborhoods and the riverwalk and a park. the most disconcerting occurrence during this episode is the number of people who pass me, going not fast at all, only to disappear over the horizon. ugh.

mile 14, 15, 16... no descartes. 17, 18, 19... by now the pace is getting ridiculous, and still, no descartes. at mile 22, i using the part of my mind that is still awake to consider slowing to a walk when a teensy bit of my mind that - against all odds and despite oxygen debt is focused on something other than myself - tries to distract me with concerns about descartes and why he hasn't met me yet.

so, i ponder descartes's fate and resist walking, but somewhere in the 22, 23 zone i get a little wonky-legged and feel like my left calf is going to cramp, so i give in and walk a bit. from there on in, i give in and walk a bit then dig in and jog a bit. it's actually going okay, for what it is. i am thinking at least i can finish at a respectable jog.

i figure descartes is either fine or someone will pick him up to carry him home. not my worry. at the same time, if descartes wants to show up with the magic puffer that will be fine. even at mile 24, that will be fine. alas, no descartes.

around mile 25, i manage to pass two guys. feels a little cruel since clearly we are all struggling here, but damn, it's a race, #amirite?

between mile 25.5-26 poses a specific challenge - a bricked roadway. i'd been down it once (before the half split off) so i know it's tricky, but i feel like i've got it under control. i probably would have except -- i am thinking the turn to the finish is at (say) avenue "a", but it unfolds that the turn is one more block, avenue "b". i am so discouraged about going another block that i stop to walk. of all the walks i took, this is probably the most disappointing.

i overcome this disappointment by picking up the damn pace (back to, like, my currently stellar 15's or whatever i'm pulling) and i make it to the turn then around the turn then i see the finish banner THEN the freaking WIND literally BLOWS the bloody banner quite literally parallel to the damn road, effectively hiding the finish. typical of today's wind, which has taken my breath and my effort, now it has taken my solace.

i buckle down and put everything into the finish. i am rocking probably a 12 at least. woo. hoo.

suddenly, there are descartes* AND his queen AND beavis grenouille AND regina. beavis grenouille and regina start to run into the road to finish with me (or, before me, because at this point i cannot beat a 4 and 6 yr old) when descartes holds them back because there are some other finishers too close and those two might get in the way. too close?! what?? who knew? clearly, this is some sort of photo finish! and i win!

i mean, i win over those two other pitiful runners who can't even manage to beat pitiful me. probably those same two guys i passed a while back. no, it's not much... BUT I'LL TAKE IT! I AM NOT LAST! (actually, there are quite a few behind us.)

over the mat. stop the watch. down the chute. accept my medal. spot a folding chair. sit. notice the medal and OH MY GOD. this is the cheapest damn medal i have ever seen! last year's was solid, heavy, medal. this... i think it might be plastic. what the hell?! i paid $100 for this god forsaken race, and pluswise - i slaved for HOURS for this award, and IT'S PLASTIC??

damn.

all effort. no payoff.











*descartes had had rather a battle of it himself and although he finished long before i, he had not finished in time to meet me at any of the crossings near the start-finish. although i am certain, had he known i'd have delighted in seeing him at 25, he'd have taken himself and the puffer right on down there. in short, forgiven is he.