I wrote earlier about being last. It’s silly I didn’t consider another alternative - not finishing. That happened this weekend.
I know it had happened to others, even my TNT mentor ended up in the hospital instead of crossing the finish line at the McAllen Marathon. I hope it wasn’t arrogance, but I never thought I wouldn’t finish unless I twisted an ankle or something.
But this weekend it happened, as I was running in the 9.11 Memorial Run 10K in Mission. I was one of the last runners (as usual). Two miles before I reached the finish line, my right foot starting hurting. That hadn’t happened before, but I kept going.
And a little later, my stomach started turning and cramping. I got goosebumps. I wasn’t sure if I needed to go to the restroom or throw up. As it was a trail, there wasn’t any place to go to sit or ask for help. I was about half a mile from where I last spotted some volunteers on the trail (we were backtracking the second half of the run).
I slowed down to a crawl and eventually stopped trying to run. I just walked slowly. I heard the last runner approach. He was giving encouraging words that we were almost done. But I told him I wasn’t feeling well. I asked him to notify the next volunteers he saw. He kindly said he would.
I saw some Border Patrol agents on horseback pass me. I was going to wave them down, but I’m not sure how they could help. Eventually a volunteer on a bicycle found me. He called in a truck, which picked me up. I thanked the driver for helping me cover a mile in the fastest time I’ve ever done.
It was really humid. I don’t know if that was a factor. I had my usual snacks and water. In either case, I admit my ego required me to say, “No, really, I’ve done this distance before. I can do it.” *Sigh* I’ve got a half-marathon coming up in a few weeks. Hopefully, I’ll figure this out.
Former high school water girl (really) finally running.