Mile 1, 2: I felt great. It was cool out, but I was comfortable. I ended up ditching my sweatshirt and gloves both before mile two. The first water stop was at 1.5 miles. I considered skipping it because there were supposed to be water stops at every 1.5 miles throughout the race. I decided to take a Gatorade, but I didn't stop running to drink it. Slowed down to a shuffle. It turned out to be a very good thing that I drank those few ounces of Gatorade.

Miles 3-5: No water. I was freaking out a little because I was starving. I came up to the 3 mile water stop, pulled out my first quarter of pbj, took a bite and then realized there was no water. I ran for the next mile holding that quarter of a sandwich not sure what to do. I kept telling myself, "You can't eat anything if you aren't drinking water." But I was so hungry, and I was holding it in my hand. In the end, I finished it, thinking, "Well, it will be okay. There will be water at 4.5 miles."

Wrong. No water. I started to panic. I asked the volunteers, "Where is the next water?" They said "Rice Park," which was another 1.5 miles away.

Sure enough, there was water there, but it was the most disgusting water I've ever had, and I've had disgusting water. I drank it all, as nasty as it was, because I felt like I had to. But I was mad and a little afraid that the water would make me sick. I mean, it was that nasty. This was my first real walk break -- about one minute.

I was feeling really low. I could feel my pace slowing, I had wasted a lot of emotional energy worrying about water, my left Achilles was starting to ache, and I wasn't even half way done. I remembered the prayer Bay had prayed for me, about helping me stick to my plan, to stay calm, and confident. And I took a little comfort in it. I told myself, "Okay. You panicked a little, and the water situation is dire, but you can work through this."

I knew it was just a short time after leaving the park that we would enter the neighborhood, so I was hoping someone there would have water. Sure enough. Quite a few people did. I took the first bottle offered (passing on the beer) and thanked him heartily. I wasn't happy about carrying a water bottle (and neither were many of the people running around me based on their verbal complaints), but I decided I didn't have a choice. I couldn't trust that there was going to be any water in the next water stops. And there wasn't. Some of the water stop volunteers weren't even around anymore.

At about mile 7, I began walking for a minute every mile. My legs needed the break, and I wanted to drink. I also ate one more quarter of the PBJ.

I did manage to nab a couple small cups of Gatorade -- at the 9 mile stop, I got one of the last four cups available.

And I just kept getting slower and slower. I was so frustrated, but I just couldn't run faster. I could hear some people around me literally shuffling, and I told myself, "At least keep picking up your feet, even if you set them down quickly. You are not going to begin shuffling."

My Achilles started feeling better, and then my right knee started aching. Just as that let up, my hips started hurting. Then the chaffing started on my thighs. I'd already been suffering with chaffing under my arms since about mile 6. I felt like I was just a total mess.

We turned off of the second trail segment and had 2.1 miles left to the finish. I really thought I was kicking that leg up a little, but they were my slowest two miles. I really didn't have anything left.

Just felt really down after the race. 10 hours later, I am still weepy and down. Very disappointed in myself and my training.

Train better and smarter. I have more long races coming up -- one in October (10, I think) and one in November (15), so I need to get my butt in gear and get those long runs in. I have learned the hard way that 5-6 mile runs don't cut it. I cannot skip the long runs. Now, to convince my family of the wisdom of this truth.

Got some astronaut ice cream and chocolate milk and collapsed on the 45 yard line. Took my shoes off and stretched. I didn't even get in line for a massage. I told myself I hadn't earned it.


1) Missed key long runs in the last six weeks. I thought I could fake it, but I couldn't. The wheels fell off right where they should have with the long runs I've been able (or not been able) to do.
2) No water at the scheduled second and third water stations. Gross water at the 4th.
3) The water situation unhinged me. I could feel myself panicking, and actually considered that I wouldn't be able to finish or that I would have to go off the route in search of water. If it hadn't have been for the kind guy in the neighborhood handing out bottles of water (and he wasn't the only one), my race would have been more in the toilet than it was.
4) Hadn't actually run in the shirt I chose. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I decided to run in a biking shirt because I wanted the pockets. That was a mistake. It rubbed me raw under my arms -- not in the pits, but actually on the arms. It's really painful.
5) Hadn't done this long of a run in a skirt. My thighs started chaffing at about mile 11. Another brain dead decision.
6) I started out too fast, and I didn't pull back because I secretly wanted to come in at 2:20, and I felt like running a little quicker would get me there. This is part of that "fake it" part. I should have slowed down when I saw that I was running basically at 11 min miles rather than the scheduled 11:37. Once I started running 11:40, I thought I was going to be okay, because I had a few minutes to give, but it was too late, and every mile got slower and slower. The last two miles were at nearly 13 minute mile pace. Horrifying.
7) I suck. I know I shouldn't say that, but that's how I feel.
8) Still trying to figure out nutrition. I don't think that sunk my run at all, but I don't know for sure. It's mostly a problem with
9) lack of training and lack of adequate long runs.

I am not going to try to rationalize what happened, or justify it, or excuse it away. I really can't express the depth of my disappointment in myself.