Unlucky No. 18

When I got close to my thirteenth half-marathon, I stopped counting. I thought if I knew which one was No. 13, I’d jinx it. 

As I got ready for this year’s McAllen Marathon, I wondered what number I was on. I didn’t do any sort of official count, but I figured the 2017 McAllen Marathon would be my eighteenth. And I must’ve jinxed it.

I didn’t finish. Shortly after the Mile 9 marker, I slipped into the chair at the First Aid station. Ironically, next to me was a sign that read, “One day I won’t be able to run. Today is not that day."

So here’s a different version of my usual 13 things.

1. I got there later than I wanted, which is why I don't have photos. I was told I could swap my unisex run shirt for a V-neck one. There really wasn’t a booth labeled for that, but I eventually chased down (literally) someone who could help me. 
2. Around Mile 6 (seconds after looking at my watch and thinking, “Hey, I’m not doing too bad”), my stomach started doing stuff. It felt different than before, but usually, I’ll slow down and I’m cool.
3. Slowing down, even A LOT, didn’t help. 
4. I was actually grateful the people at one cheer stations totally ignored the participants. They were cheering passing motorcycle officers, and one stopped to talk to them about something. They had their backs turned to the runners left. It saved me the trouble of the usual wave and cheer I give back. 
5. Around Mile 8, I couldn’t even keep my arms up. That’s never happened before. And I sadly realized I had to walk.
6. I stopped and used what may or may not have been a Port-A-Pottie meant for runners.
7. I felt weaker and light-headed. I admit I was hoping someone else would stop me and say, “Are you okay?” It would make me feel like I was stopping at someone else’s recommendation. That didn’t happen.
8. I got more light-headed. I decided I’d sit down at the next cheer station. It’s good to have witnesses. Fate was on my side. The cheer station was also a First Aid station.
9. I got my vitals checked and was given water. I didn’t want an ambulance to check on me. I still had hopes of continuing the route at least by walking. But at times like this, I think, “If my friend/relative were in this situation, what would I want them to do?” So I agreed to get the ambulance crew to check on me. Better safe than sorry. 
10. As I waited for the ambulance, I saw the last half-marathon participants pass me. And the cheer station shouted encouragement. 
11. I was first told someone might be able to drive me to catch up with the last participants, but the ambulance crew said I’d just be driven to the finish line.
12. I couldn’t use the restroom at the First Aid station. (Was it weird that I asked for gauze, because there wasn’t any toilet paper?) Like the blood donation center people tell me, they’re afraid I’ll pass out in there, and they won’t be able to get me out. 
13. I thought I was cheated out of at least a walking finish, but as I got winded walking to my car, it was the right choice.

So that happened. As I sat waiting for a relative to come and pick up my car (I wasn’t supposed to drive), I listened to the names of the people who were crossing the finish line. The announcement of each name made me twitch. 

It wasn’t a great feeling seeing everyone around me feeling accomplished and wearing their medals, which I had neither. But it was the right decision. 

It was just another reminder of the lesson I’ve learned before: Don’t worry about looking stupid. Stay alive. 

For the record, from what I saw, it was a good route. It changed from previous years.