I was so not ready for this race. I started running again in August, then stopped, then started, then stopped... I figured I'd go for a run last week, and if I could make it for 30 minutes, I'd do the race. Even though I made my 30 minute goal, I was still nervous. I found out a few days beforehand that it would be at Sugarhouse Park, which meant the course would have hills! 😧 I didn't train for hills. I don't do hills.
But Nancy showed up to a race a few months ago that she wasn't totally ready for, and she did it anyway. She inspired me and I had to at least show up and try. I kept telling myself that, even if I had to walk up the hills, it would still be a win.
(This is what I said, but I wasn't fooling myself. If I had to walk at all, I would count the race as a failure and be super depressed about it. I have no grace with myself.)
My alarm didn't go off that morning and I woke up at 8:32. The race started at 9:10. When I went to get my pants out of the dryer, they were still wet. I had no time for breakfast. I threw on a pair of hiking pants and ran out the door. Luckily, the course was just a few minutes away from my house, so I made it with a few minutes to spare.
It sucked. There was one hill towards the end that made me want to die. I'm sure that people could have walked beside me and kept pace with my "running," I was going so slow. But I didn't walk. And I made it to the finish line.
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