Laugh at my pain

I have another splash of caffeine on a Sunny Friday morning. A light workload for the day, before 8 am, the weekend is oh so close, and the good vibes are flowing.

Jotting down some random clutter in my head, I get an itch to check the local race schedule.  With a Half Marathon in 3 weeks and 2 weeks post a 30k road race, I am planning on a few more strong yet shorter efforts.  All in an effort to peak for 13.1 on 5/6.

"Hmm..no 5ks in sight, 10k maybe?"  I ponder back and forth, ultimately deciding against any spur of the moment race effort.

All of a few moments later, I jot down another note, and then, like most impulsive runners, "Alright, one last look.  How about runhigh.com?" 

We're in luck.  Saturday April 14th, 22nd Annual Martha's Run, 10K @ Mt. Lebanon High School.  I read in a little more; oh wow, there's a lot of history here.  It's a tribuatory race towards a local slain officer who loved to run.  I call my wife, she laughs and approves of the morning time block I need for the randomness that my life attracts. 

I've jumped into races within a week or 2, but never 24 hours before.  I knew my fitness was there, but 2 weeks of disrupted sleep with a newborn after my last race had me dragging a bit, and not quite race ready.  Yet, the idea of a hard, low key effort through Mt. Lebanon's notorious hills was enticing.  "How bad could it hurt?" Never ask that.

I got to bed late and got abruptly woken up @4:30am with a congested 11 week old who was struggling throughout the night.  I snuck in another hour of sleep but when the alarm hit, I didn't exactly roll over with enthusiasm.  

6am wake up with Oatmeal, about 5 tbsp's of peanut butter (I need to seek counseling for PB addiction), and a large Mossy Oak mug of black coffee got the blood flowing.  I tune into my morning go to's; random running clips, Joey Diaz's epic morning joint rants, Joe Rogan's podcast, and my journal.  

I kiss my son and wife goodbye, let the dogs out to do their business, and I am out the door a few minutes later.

"Oh Shit, I didn't brush my teeth.." while driving down 376, not cool.

As a life long coffee consumer, if my teeth aren't brushed within half hour of finishing my cup, I can't continue with anything else.  I find some mouth wash in the back seat, I am not the biggest fan of mouth wash, but I proceed on with using it against my better wishes. 

I had a half hour before the race, and the bi polar weather in Pittsburgh graced us with the first humid morning of the year.  After a quick 15 minute warm up and a few strides, all I could think of was, 

"This cotton mouth is so not ideal, wtf?  My blood sugar is reasonable and I am hydrated.  Damn mouth rinse."

I couldn't rid myself of the listeriene, and after drinking a few cups of water, I had a copper taste lingering with dry lips and a warm sweat already rolling.

Shaking my legs out, I look over and ask a runner resembling somebody who's put in a few miles over the years, 

"My man, I signed up on a whim, what kind of course am I about to venture into?"

A few laughs and head shakes from my new starting line acquanitance, "Ah man, hilly, very hilly actually."  A common experience here in Western PA.  "Pretty much up and down the whole time with a few sharp turns."  

All I could think with a copper taste lingering in my mouth, "ya know, at times like this, golf sounds amazing.."

At the starting line, we all say a prayer in honor of Martha Dixon, a slain FBI Special Agent, a local legend.  The voice of the Pittsburgh Steelers is at the starting line on the mic, thanking us all for joining in to continue to live and run in her legacy.  For something so incredibly random, this was a special experience for our community.

A few moments later, the gun goes off @ 9AM.  I overestimate my desired effort that morning as I ambitiously take off with the lead runners.  We round the track onto the backend straightaway, turning the curve, taking me back to my 200m days but this time, I exit off the track for a Saturday morning lesson in threshold and pain tolerance.  A steep half mile downhill quad blast kicks off the festivities. Rounding the first corner, I look up, already breathing heavy, and it's a steady and steep climb, just shy of a .50 mile.  I must have forgotten that I was running a 10k and not an 800m.  My breathing was too heavy not even a mile in and my mouth was as dry as California in 2014.  Rough start.

Nearing the crest of the first hill, striding past Mt. Lebanon High School, Alma Mater to one of my best friends and brothers for life, I am seriously contemplating, "I need to find a new hobby."  My Nike run app and watch click off out loud, "Mile 1, 5:58"

"Ohhh dear god Andrew, you dipshit, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" I utter out loud to myself passing the first round of volunteers.

Rounding the crest of the hill, now down a rolling hill into the beautiful neighborhoods of Mt. Lebo, community members were taking joy in watching a date with the pain cave as they sipped their coffee on comfy lawn chairs and cheered on.  Nearing mile 2, all I could think about was wanting to be done, and, where the hell is the water?  I've never in my life thought about walking off course and calling it a day, however, today was that day.

I was losing the mental battle of the race, and my body was not cooperating.  Blood sugar was in check, no cramps, but I had dead legs with no pop.  Weaving through the neighborhood, up another climb, and down another hill, I finally got my first cup of water after mile 2 nearing the 5k mark.

At this point, I have no clue what place I am in, and quite frankly, I couldn't care less.  I am just focusing on the next mailbox in my vision.  A few racers easily stride by me as I pass on words of hope and encouragement, "this is brutal, what the hell are we doing?!"  One racer laughed and he said, "be ready for a few more climbs between 4-5."

At the 5k mark, I am somehow by the grace of god on pace for 42ish minutes, even though I felt I was more on pace with the 1 mile walkers.  Between miles 3 and 4, I am just in awe of how out of rhythm I feel, it was a total race breakdown thus far.  I signed up because I saw the race as more of a hard workout in prep for the Half Marathon, but that didn't remove how awful I felt and how bad I wanted to walk off course.

Somewhere around 4.5ish I didn't see anybody near me and I was hanging on by a thread up the last big climb.  I was falling apart.  I got one last cup of water and clicked off mile 5.  My pace was drastically falling off, but I committed to finish strong with whatever I had.  I ignored the idea of bartering for a lawn chair and coffee from the spectators.

Somewhere around 5.25-5.5ish, the course blessed us with a big downhill, passing down the very same initial climb that had me questioning my sanity (a common thought.)  I commit to myself, I am NEVER running this again, just super negative, even during my infamous death march at the 2016 Pitt Half Marathon, I wasn't this negative.

My watch finally ticked off mile 6.  I know I am almost there, praise the heavens.  The course was sanctioned off from traffic, and we're nearing a busy intersection.  Before I make my last turn towards the finish line, I hear a loud, deep familiar voice,

"TRRRBOOOOO!!! GET IT SONNNN!!"  Famous words from a legend, one of my dearest friends, Nick Garlitz.  He was born and raised in Mt. Lebanon, and was en route to a family affair.  What are the odds?  The universe never fails to amaze me.

I cross the finish line in 45:32, minutes off from my potential, but on that day and on that course, that's all I had, and then some. 

I exchange some small talk with some local runners about the brut of the course.  610 ft of climb for a road 10k is not exactly PR potential, but it will surely humble you.

During my 1 mile cool down, my negative thoughts turned to a laugh and I was proud that I toughed it out.  Every part of me wanted to quit, and those thoughts were oh so real the entire race.  While driving home, I smiled, laughed, and in true form,

"Alright, maybe I will run that again."

Much love,
Andrew