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Comments: Running and I are not friends. In fact, we fight the majority of the time and I'm not really sure who wins, though it's probably not me. The first 10km went really well - in actual fact, with my back, knee, and sciatica - I was really expecting it to be terrible. I got through 10km in just over an hour, and feeling really good. In fact, I felt pretty good right through 15km, just truckin' along. I followed my race plan of 14mins running & 1min running from the beginning, though it didn't really seem like ANYONE else was doing any sort of run/walk program. A tiny hit to the ego, but I figured there was no point in changing MY plan just because I wanted to save face in some way. So, we walked. After the 15km mark however, everything changed. I started getting a hot spot under my left big toe that I did my best to ignore, my right leg (which hurts with every stride regardless) started to get really angry with me, and my back was definitely calling me nasty names. I had tried to put my head down and just keep going for a bit but I caught a glimpse of the next km marker out of the corner of my eye and decided to look up hoping beyond hope that it would say 'km 17' or 'km 18'. Nope... my heart kind of sank as I looked at it and lo and behold, I had only gone 1 measly km. That was the hardest km of the whole race for me and Tony at this point was trying to be helpful in saying 'only 5km to go!'. I kind of wanted to trip him for saying that, but didn't as he'd probably just pick himself up, keep running and beat me. Ever so slowly the kilometers ticked by. Even though at times it seemed like I may have been at a standstill. We finally got to km 19 and again my leg was screaming so badly at me that I had to walk for a minute. I only let myself stop for that one minute (otherwise I just would have walked the rest) and with my body complaining mightily, we started jogging again towards the finish. FINALLY km 20 comes into sight and I know I'm going to finish. It wasn't going to be in my super secret hoping to finish time of 2:07-ish, but I'm really happy that it was under the 2:20 that Tony thought it would be in. There were 4 sets of photographers during the last km and we did our best to impress with gangsta poses, etc (yes, we're dorks) - and then it was there. The finish line!!! I crossed the line with Tony and with a smile on my face and that's all that counts. What would you do differently?: Um... maybe run more? Or try to be faster? Though I now have video evidence that I'm at least faster than a really slow golf cart.  Post race
Warm down: The warm down involved putting on the after-race poncho, having a vending machine waffle (tastier than you would think), and walking back to the Metro to grab a shower at our hotel before getting on the train back to London. What limited your ability to perform faster: I suck at running. Event comments: MORE PORT-A-LOOS!!!! I still can't believe that there were only 11 for 40,000 athletes! More drink stations along the course would have also been nice. A big, big thank you to Tony for running this with me - I know I wouldn't have done nearly as well without having him with me. I'm also quite surprised that I'm not nearly as sore as I thought I would be, so that's a bonus! :) Last updated: 2012-03-04 12:00 AM
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France
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Wow did I ever NOT want to wake up this morning for the race. If I could have pressed the snooze button (or better yet, just turned the d@mn alarm off) I would have. But no - I eventually was roused (and possibly guilted) into getting up, having a couple of pre-race Aleve pills, 1/2 a Red Bull, and a croissant. Breakfast of champions!
We then got on the Metro and headed to the race venue hoping that it wouldn't be too cold, that I wouldn't completely blow-up (as I did in my last HM) and that it wouldn't be as torturous as I tend to think ALL running tends to be.
We got to the race site with about 45 minutes to spare, Tony went off to drop our bag at the bag check area and when he said to me, 'maybe you should go to the bathroom NOW', I figured that might be a good idea as my tummy hadn't been so happy with me lately. So, I joined the queue while he went off... and thus began the wait for the port-a-loo. Just to give you an idea of what I was dealing with, the entry for this race was sold out at 40,000 participants. There were a total of 11 port-a-loos. That's right. 11. Needless to say, the race start time got closer and closer as I got agonizingly nearer to the front of the line. 10:00 comes and goes, and so I know I've got about 20 minutes until my wave should be going by... and still I'm in the line. Still, I wait as I see the runners in the starting chute go by... 10 minutes to go and I'm wondering why the h3ll it's taking people SO long to pee... honestly, we're racing here people - if ever there was a time to test your speed-peeing skills... it's NOW!!! 5 minutes and my blessed spot at the front is finally here! The door to my far left opens, and I don't even give the lady a chance to let the door shut behind her as she leaves as I run in. Let me tell you, waiting was a VERY good idea. I swear it's the fastest evacuation that I've ever been able to accomplish - and I'm still thanking Tony for having spare napkins in his coat pocket.
Once the *ahem* necessities were taken care of, we take off for a way into the chute to join the herd... and before you know it, we're across the start line!
Um... not much of a warm-up to speak of unless you consider doing the 'I gotta pee' dance for about 45 minutes a warm-up.