It all started the night before. I guess I should know better but I’ve eaten pesto lately with (little to) no problems but that wasn’t the case. I felt my stomach churn. I should have known better.
Morning came way too soon. It was early, I was tired, and my dinner proved to be troublesome. My body just felt off and uneasy. I wasn’t looking for a PR or even to run a crazy race, but I was hoping for a motivating run. Hoping.
There was traffic parking but it wasn’t too bad. I got my bib and lined up.
The race started and all seemed to be good. It was cold, but okay. I followed the crowd and ran, trying to find the pace that felt right, knowing not to go out too fast or too fast in general for my uneasy tummy. Volunteers directed the 1/2 marathoners to keep going (I was sad to leave the pace group I was following so soon) but I followed the directions for the 10k-ers and kept going.
About 1 1/2 miles in, someone was screaming that we needed to start over, that the 10k runners were misdirected, that we needed to go back. Most of us thought this man was crazy. He was next to volunteers who weren’t doing anything and he was the only one saying it or anything. We kept running.
Turns out, he was the race director. He knew what he was saying. My bad.
But we kept running. We didn’t really know what else to do. I guess in a way we made up our own course…running the course but probably taking some weird detours or misdirections. I hit a water station at (my) mile 4 1/2 or so. I reached for a Gatorade cup desperately looking for hydration and the volunteer moved his hand. I guess he thought I was going for the other hand. I also took fuel before the sip of Gatorade. Not really because I needed fuel, but because I’m still trying to make sure my body can handle my race day fuel for the 1/2 marathon.
We ran along the beach. It was a pretty view for sure but I was getting nervous. I really didn’t know where I was and the lack of volunteers along the course and the possible “wrong direction” made me nervous of where we were headed. I didn’t want to stop, slow down or break away from any pack of runners. Must.keep.moving.
My body was struggling and I think mostly from not feeling well and therefore probably being somewhat dehydrated. I even said out loud “you can do this!” somewhere around mile 3…and then continued in my head for the next couple miles.
Now the event team can’t confirm the course taken by those of us who were misdirected, but according to my Nike app on my phone, I ran a 10k…and according to the event website, this is my time:
I crossed the finish line, got some water and the race director made an apology announcement – email him and we can get a full refund + $10 off a future race with their organization. He explained what happened and is making an effort to fix it. I respect and appreciate that.
Regardless, Sunday’s race was a learning experience for many involved and a reminder to me that not every run (or race!) is going to be the greatest run of your life. It’s made me nervous for my 1/2 marathon but also encouraging to my mind over matter mantra.
Have you ever had any interesting race situations or stories?