I love the smell of road rash in the morning

On Saturday 8/9/08 I raced the biggest/longest race of my life. And I finished. The only thing I've ever done that was harder than this race (physically) was delivering my son. My son tore things up a bit when he came into the world and this race tore me up a little bit upon entry as well.

The swim (1.2 miles) took way longer than it should have. It took me an hour. But I wasn't last.

Not 100 feet out of transition on the bike I wiped out on soft gravel. My brain had first told me to WALK my bike over that spot, but I thought I could be tough. Flesh is soft and gravel is sharp and hard. I ripped my left arm up pretty good and got road rash from my shoulder to my knee. But I wasn't broken. With a little assistance I picked myself and my bike up and I gave the rest of the race a go. 56 miles of hills and rolling hills on the bike later. . . I returned to the scene of my fall, got off the bike and walked that damned thing back to transition. At that point I wasn't quite last either, but the leaders were finishing up the race at that point. How nice for them.

I still had 13.1 miles left to run. At many points along the bike portion I thought to myself, "I can just stop now." But I knew I was kidding myself. I wouldn't stop until I was done, or too sick to continue. Oddly enough when I started running I wasn't all that fatigued in the legs. They felt decent. I was tired, but not dead yet.

The trail we ran most of the half marathon on was beautiful. Because there were so few people in the race, there were whole miles that went by where I didn't see another runner, just the prairie or one of the volunteers. Give those volunteers a hand for passing out water for hours and cheering for every last one of us! Did I mention I still wasn't last? I mentally bargained with myself to finish the run. . .one mile at a time. It worked. I ran up that damned Amsterdam Hill at mile 11.5. Well, maybe it was more like a shuffle, but it was NOT a walk! Once I had that done, I knew I could make it in.

Charles, and friends Heather, Jon and Taena were there at the end cheering as hard as they could when they saw me come out of the woods. I almost stopped there to cry, but I gave it the last bit of juice I had and ran over the finish mat. My bike sat alone on its rack. There was one runner behind me, someone must have collected her bike for her. I finished. I wasn't last. I cheered hard for the last person.

I do love this sport, but I also now believe that this distance is not meant for me. It's just a little too much.

I am sore, I am bruised, I am scabbed up, I had a tetanus booster (ouch) but I am a finisher. I hope I can be a finisher with everything important in my life.