This race was an EPIC FAIL. I somehow survived it, albeit with my tail between my legs and a severely bruised ego. I knew I had ITB syndrome, but was hoping that it was healed up enough to NOT flair up during the race. Even if it did, I figured I could run through it. I was dead wrong.

The first half of the race went smooth. I was sailing along at an avg 9 pace and felt good. I was quite sure I could PR over my 4:17 from Tobacco Road and maybe even get close to 4 hours. At one point we were running through a military bunker area and the soldiers and cadets were all lined up on both sides of the road cheering us through; very motivating! We started out south for an out-and-back, and then north. Heading north up the boardwalk got tough because we were on solid concrete sidewalk and had the wind to deal with. But it was awesome running alongside the ocean with beautiful view!

It was the moment we turned off the boardwalk that my ITB seized up and stopped me in my tracks. This was before mile 13 (about .5 before the chip mat). I stopped to stretch but still could not run. I walked for a bit and stretched some more trying to access what to do. I knew the chip mat was not far and wanted to at least get beyond it so I pressed on as best as I could. I finally got beyond the chip mat but felt like I could not go on and thought this was the end of my race. I still had 13 miles to go! There was a medical tent. I looked at it. I knew that unless there was a chiropractor in there, there was nothing they could do for me other than give me ice. And if I DNF, I won't get my cool finisher's medal, sweatshirt, and hat (pout). I can't DNF, I have to finish this race even if I have to crawl to the finish line!

I pulled out my iPhone to check the race cutoff and found that it was 7 hrs. So I knew that even if I walked, I could still make it. Besides, I figured if I walked for a bit that I would be able to break back into a run shortly. But that never happened. I sent Pete a text message because I knew he would be expecting me to catch him soon and would wonder where I was. Then I soldiered on as best I could. I was VERY sad and disappointed.

I had a silly 26.2 press-on tattoo on my arm and at one point someone pointed at my tattoo and said, "Come on! That says 26.2, not 15!" I felt embarrassed and ashamed of myself for walking and it really hurt my heart.

I approached the north end of the course which was in the Fort Story Military Reservation. At mile 18, I started accessing how much longer I would be and sent Pete an update. When I looked back up, a photographer had taken my photo! Really? Great, JUST great. As if this isn't humiliating enough, now there is a photo of me hobbling along texting at the same time (eyeroll). Could I PLEASE have a little more salt to put on my wounds?

I knew there would be a lighthouse up that way and was looking forward to seeing it. But to my delight, there was not one, but TWO lighthouses! I was already SO late in this race that I figured I may as well stop and take a photo.



Back off of the military reservation, there was a crowd of people at a water stop forming a human chute to cheer runners through. I thought, to be sure I can run through the crowd! To my dismay, I could not. THAT was when I realized that I would not be able to run the finisher's chute and I almost started to cry. Almost. But I held back the tears because in my mind I was thinking that it would be disrespectful and shameful to cry on the course. Those people who were still out there with me were doing their best and they were happy about it. So I knew I could not cry over a lost PR and not being able to run the finish chute. I had to hold it in until I could get off the course and away from everyone. And I had to smile and say thank you when people cheered me on even though I was all broken up inside, and even though I did not feel I deserved to be cheered.

When I got back to the boardwalk with about .5 mile to go, I could see the Neptune statue and the finish line off in a distance. I wanted to run to it SO BADLY. It really hurt my heart not to be able to. Now I know what it feels like to be a bird with clipped wings struggling and trying to take off, but unable to. I tried SO many times to pick up a run again, but it was futile. I'm used to sailing through the crowds with a HUGE smile spread across my face, not hobbling with a grimace. It felt like a dagger in my heart. I kept biting my lip to hold back the tears.

I finally hobbled through the finish line and down to get my medal, sweatshirt, hat, and photo. Then I exited past Pete and signaled for him to come with me away from the crowd. Then I finally let it out and broke into tears. I cried to Pete that I wanted to run SO badly, but I couldn't. I was frustrated, disappointed, and ashamed of myself; but mostly I just felt terribly sad and broken hearted. That was toughest medal I ever earned, although I didn't feel like I deserved a finisher's medal, because I really only ran a half marathon, not a full.

Went down to the tent to get our beer! They also had Irish stew. Took a few photos, then hobbled the 2 miles back to the hotel.

Here is Neptune (photo taken the following morning).


And here is a photo with the double lighthouses!




ITB Syndrome.