So, a few weeks ago I ran in the Quarter Marathon in Kinloch. It was a marathon effort to get to the start line. First, I had a niggly injury in the back of my leg that kept coming and going. I would rest it, it would decrease, I would run on it and it would flare up again. I hadn't trained as much as I would have liked because of the injury, but still felt pretty confident. Second, the person who was going to look after Harper while we ran pulled out the weekend before, so I ended up finding a high school student I'd never met to babysit. Then I got a cold.
By the time race day came, I was taking more drugs than William Burroughs, and a bit nervous not only about the 10km, but about some random stranger abducting my baby.
Race day was gorgeous. The babysitter turned up and she was awesome, Harper adored her instantly. I headed down to the start line with Bram, Anita and the Postie who were running the half marathon. As they went off, I warmed up by walking around Kinloch and doing some stretches. Feeling good, feeling fine.
The first few kms of the quarter marathon, I couldn't really cope with the number of people I was running with. There was some hugely barrel-shaped guy hoicking right in my ear, who over took me on every flat bit, but slowed down to toddler speed on any incline, and was almost impossible to get around. At one point, just before half way, a couple of women in their mid 40s were behind me. I know this because one of them talked incessantly about how old she was. Their conversation just did my head in. It went a little something like this:
Colleen: My sister in law works at Taupo hospital
Other woman: Gasp, gasp. Oh yeah?
Other woman: Gasp, gasp.
(Colleens picks up the pace and passes me)
Other woman: Oh god Colleen! Gasp gasp.
It was PAINFUL to listen to. They stopped and took off a bunch of clothes, so I passed them, then they sped up and passed me. I was glad to see them disappear around a bend.
It wasn't until halfway that I felt comfortable, had my little "I can do it" mantra going on in my head, and at 35 minutes was right on track for my time. So imagine how crap I felt at 40 something minutes to be greeted with a little shiny blob in the middle of my vision, heralding a migraine.
When I get a migraine, or more accurately, get the aura and blindness that comes with a migraine, I panic. As I ran, trying to keep calm became impossible. I couldn't see, I couldn't breathe. I blubbed. I don't really remember much about what happened next, I certainly couldn't see much of who I was talking to. A marshal called someone with a truck to come and pick me up, a girl with a sprained ankle sat in the front. I was taken to the ambulance back at the finish line, and the worst moment was having my blood pressure taken while seeing the people I had run near crossing the finish line. Poor Postie finished his half marathon to the sounds of his name being called over the PA to come to the ambulance.
So I didn't finish my Quarter marathon. I'm bummed about it, and spent a long time regretting that I hadn't just boxed on, but more drama was to come.
My niggly leg injury has flared up and my physio (I now have a physio..) suspects it's a stress fracture, which means being off my feet as much as possible for 6-8 weeks, then slowly getting back into walking and running. So I'm back to square one. I almost feel as if the universe is trying to tell me, in all ways it can, that running is not for me.
The universe is wrong.