My running companion the whole race was self-doubt. I feel very much out of my element even standing on the sidelines cheering for races, and to be out there participating was way out of my comfort zone. I don't know how many times I tried to talk myself out of even showing up, and then standing there waiting on my group to start I felt very lost in a large crowd. I knew no one there, people were walking in groups and I just didn't want to be there.

Right off the starting gun a stroller ran up the back of my right leg. I immediately thought I should just stop and not go on. Then we get up to the train tracks and are told to run, that a train is coming. It's uphill that portion of the course, and it hurt. By the time I turned left onto PCH my heel had stopped hurting but my outter calf muscle was starting to burn. I know they are somehow connect (the injury issue). All they way down PCH, past the 1 mile marker I talked down to myself. I had no business being there, WTF am I thinking, I need to pee (I knew I went too early), what would DH think if I just stopped now and turned around? What would my BT group think? I should have brought a water bottle. A senior lady with a cane passes me. What seems like hundreds of stroller people pass me. I refuse to look back for fear that I'm the last one and begin to appreciate people passing me because it means I'm not DFL. At the turn around there's a bathroom hut for the beach and I pealed off and went. I did feel better afterwards, but so many people had kept on going and the DFL head demons came out to play again. At the water stop I grabbed a cup and spilt half of it down my front. The other half I swished in my mouth and held it there as long as I could. I wasn't really thirsty, just had a very dry mouth, plus my throat was starting to hurt again. At mile 3 there was a man walking taking pictures who was constantly walking in front of me and slowing down. I felt like pushing his azz down and had decided that if he did it one more time I was just going to run over him. I was at a point where if I slowed down I didn't think I could keep on going, my feet were killing me (burning) and my right calf was still screaming. The restuarants were firing up and the smell was wonderful. My stomach was growling, my feet are hurting and there the turn to the finish line. DH was not where I thought he would be waiting. I just kept my head down the whole time and for some reason looked up right into one of the female photographer's face and she had the most kindest smile on her face and told me to not stop, I was almost there. I really just wanted to weep. I did see DH standing there and motioned to him that I needed a drink so he handed me a water bottle. Across the finish line, and I almost got knocked down by some woman and her little girl who were in a hurry to get the chip cut off their shoe. I'm trying to not limp and I didn't want to stop for fear my right leg would start to cramp instead of burn. Slowed down long enough to grab a bottle of Cytomax, water, and a banana and limped back toward the car. Stopped to let the 20+ year olds run by and headed on to the car.

Walked more? I don't know. I know it would have been better if my heel had not been hurting and I could have run some.

Limping back to the car.


Damn PF.


Since April 2004 I've wanted to run this race. There's a bit of personal history behind it for me and I'm determined to keep coming back until I *can* run it.