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I really don't even want to write this post. I'm already getting irrationally mad. Usually, I'll outline the post the night of the event, and write it the next day, but to be perfectly honest, I'm writing this
from the future, oooooooooo! This race kicked my ass, not in a good way, and I'm done... I'm done with running this race.
So, since there's no outline, and I'm blogging from the future, I'll try to keep this short.
Hubby and I, sans Kiddo, drove in to town, going first to the "Expo" (which is just a tent to get your shirt and bib, then maybe two vendors), then checked in to the
Super 8 Saint Augustine Beach. Previously, we've stayed at the Regency Inn & Suites (practically next door), but they were full because I took too long to book the hotel. So we settled for this (pro tip - don't stay here. It's not shitty, but I've stayed at plenty better $60/night hotels!). We had some lovely Adult Time, then headed over to
Schooner's for dinner. This place is great; my dad always taught me to not
just eat where the locals eat, but to eat where the local
old folks eat - they know where the great tasting, and affordable food is. I've never been steered wrong! (You can also get great seafood at O'Steen's or Barnacle Bill's, but I'm partial to Schooner's).
When I woke up Saturday morning, I began to worry. At 6am, it was already 72º with 75% humidity. Today was going to be difficult.
They changed the course a little bit, and this year, we all lined up behind the field, rather than on A1A by the Castillo. This year, the 10k, 5k and Half-Marathon all ran at the same time (okay, so there's a 5-minute take-off time difference).
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Gotta love Florida in November |
At 7am, those of us running the half took off into the already hot and humid Florida morning.
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There was a beautiful Indian couple having wedding photos taken at sunrise... so wonderful! |
Seeing the mile markers in slightly different areas was a little disconcerting - I'm used to Mile 1 being somewhere else...
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Only 12 to go |
I made it over the bridge, though I was bombarded on both sides with 5k and 10k runners.
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Seriously... I was beat by a dude with crutches |
We lost a lot of runners to the 5k, and the crowd in front of me got much smaller.
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There's still some bodies ahead of me |
Sadly, by the time I got to the Mile 3 sign, I was 3rd from last. I hate being last. Only the TuTu girls were behind me. My mood - which was already in the tank already - was not improving. I wanted to bail. I wanted to quit.
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There's a runner... way up there. |
I stared at this for a long time, walking up to it... I could turn around right now. No one would know. I could just tell my Hubby that I wasn't "feelin' it" and decided to cut out early. He'd understand.
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Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Don't do it. Do it. Don't do it. |
But I couldn't do that. I'm not a quitter.
But, holy shit, how bad did it feel to walk past that turnaround, knowing I had 10 more miles to go?
By Mile 4, I accepted my fate that I was going to be 3rd from last for pretty much the entire race.
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I'm so alone! |
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No, buzzards... I'm not gonna die here... |
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No... I'm pretty sure it's a miracle that I'll finish |
By Mile 5, I don't think I could even see anyone in front of me. It was very lonely out here.
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I haven't even completed 10k yet... |
I huffed and puffed my way up the bridge. I was so far in the back, there were hardly even any runners on the
other side of the bridge!
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Very few folks over on the left |
Mile 6 now, going downhill. I'm not even halfway through this race and I want to quit.
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Fuck your sign. I want to quit. |
Ironically, my 10k split isn't all that terrible. That's maybe 2-3 minutes slower than my usual time. But with less than 500 runners, it just looks bad.
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I've run dedicated 10ks slower than this split... maybe it's not so bad... |
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Oh damn... there's the Cone Wagon |
I came around the turn around spot and began my way back up the bridge when the worst happened... I was passed by the final two walkers. You may remember them from last year - the TuTu wonders who wanted to be the final two finishers.
And they passed me.
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Never have I felt so betrayed! |
Mile 7 means I'm officially past the halfway mark. But all that really tells me is that I have that much more to go...
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I kept up with them for a good quarter-mile or so... |
I'm just so spent at this point. It's hot as fuck. My lungs are dying, despite multiple hits from Vlad (the Inhaler). My legs feel like cinder-blocks, despite being on the ball with my fuel plan (Goo or Chew, every Two).
I'm being followed by the Sag Vehicle by Mile 8 (actually, probably while still on the bridge), and I'm mentally in tears. I've never had a race feel this bad... internally, externally, mentally... I was in hell.
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I got to Mile 8 around 9:30am |
I turned to the Sag Wagon and motioned him forward to me, but I think
he thought I was waving him ahead of me, like I was holding him up. After 30 seconds of this pantomime, I walked back to him and asked if I could Sag in his car for a little bit. He said sure, so I climbed in the backseat.
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This was taken at 10am, back on A1A behind the TuTus |
I was a quitter. I sat in the back of that car and mentally reamed myself for all of the bad choices I'd made over the past few months, over the past few days, and during the race. Run faster, fuel better, take fewer rest breaks, blah blah blah. I truly hated myself.
The Sag Wagon still had to Sag, so we ended up following the TuTus, and that's when I learned why the course was changed: In previous years, the race went through Anastasia Island State Park. When the Race Director was planning this year's race, the Park demanded thousands of dollars for that access (it was either $3k or $5k, I can't remember)! So, the RD said no thanks, and rerouted the course. It still went through the neighborhood around Santandler, but it came back out and followed A1A to the finish.
We followed the TuTus through the neighborhood and back out to A1A.
Another decision the RD made -
and one of the big reasons I'm not going to do this race again - is that they were going to open the roads at 10am. That meant that - even though I'd been told the race had a 3:30 course time limit - they were shutting the course 30 minutes earlier than advertised, and those of us in the back would have to finish the race on the sidewalk. This also meant that any water stops would be gone. I've run this race three times, and each time, I've felt undervalued as a Back of the Pack runner. This time, I felt like a disgusting piece of gum on a fast runner's shoe.
We stayed behind the TuTus until 10am, when the roads were opened, and then the Sag began to take off towards the finish line. I asked if he would stop and let me out - I wanted to finish this on my own two feet, including walking back over the bridge. He was hesitant, but let me out right past Mile 11. Those of you who can math, that means I sagged for 3 miles.
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I passed the Mile 11 sign (still in the car) at 10:07 |
I'd been in the car for about a half-hour, enjoying comfortable Toyota Avalon leather seats and beautiful air conditioning, so by the time I got out, my whole body had stiffened up. I worked out the kinks pretty quickly though... on the sidewalk.
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I paid the same race fee, don't close the roads! |
Even up here, among the "faster" Back of the Pack people, there were very few people. I think I saw two people ahead of me?
The Mile 12 sign was now in front of the bridge, rather than in the middle of it, thanks to course redesign.
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I'm not a quitter - I'm gonna cross that bridge when I come to it! |
I was able to get across the bridge without having to stop for a fucking drawbridge, too!
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It's a shitty photo, but the sentiment is clear |
I had to dodge tourists all along the seawall sidewalk, between the bridge and the Visitor's Center. I had to walk through the grass near the Castillo parking lot. I had to cross the street like fucking FROGGER to get to the damn finish line behind the Visitor's Center.
But I got there.
My "official" time was
3:30:07. My 10k split was 1:46:50. I was 32nd out of 32 in my age group. I came in before 9 other people, including the TuTus, whose actual names are Abdiela and Pattie. They came in at 3:49, and were able to beat 2 more people. The last finisher came in just over 3:52.
Using the pace time from my split to predict a more accurate time would put me crossing the finish line at 3:45:23. Still a great time for me (would be my 2nd fastest time, ironically).
When I crossed the finish line, I got my medal, and went over to where Hubby was. He saw the look on my face and knew something was up. I was mad. I told him I had to sag and that I wasn't going to do this race again, and... it must have been the tone in my voice, but he stopped asking questions after that.
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Oooh, fancy filter |
The finish line was pretty barren by the time we headed out; I don't think I got any Columbia's or even a can of soda, because they had already packed up. There might (
might) have been some bottled water somewhere. I didn't want to stick around, I wanted to get my clothes out of the car and go change. Maybe getting the sweat of this race off my body would help improve my mood.
Once changed, we walked to Harry's for lunch. Hubby and I joked about the 2nd floor area -
like I could really climb stairs! - and the waiter asked if upstairs was okay! HA! I gotta go up there, now...
We got a lovely - and quiet - table in a corner with lovely windows. One window looked towards the Castillo, while the other overlooked the exterior balcony and the Bridge of Lions.
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Looking towards the Castillo |
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At least it's still a great medal |
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Smooshed by me, not them (they gave me TWO waters, since I ran!) |
The burger was just okay... I should have stuck with fried shrimp. Oh well... Lesson learned for next time. Hubby liked it though.
We walked back along St. George Street, picking up some fudge and Oreos for the kiddo, then back to the car. With a stop at RaceTrac (no WaWas in St. Augustine), we headed home.
Next year, I'm going to have to find a better race for November/December. I can't do this one anymore. Even if this race was $50, I wouldn't feel it was worth it, because of how slow runners get the shit end of the stick. I paid $75 for this race, and I never will again.