Oak Ridge Half-Marathon?

"Excuse me.  Sir?  Could I exchange my shirt for the one that says 'The Oak Ridge 12 Miles?'"

No, I didn't technically finish the whole course today, but looking back several hours later, it is actually a funny story.  At the time was it funny?  Absolutely not.  Herein lies the tale.

We arrived at the Oak Ridge training facility/strange government building with awards displayed for excellent marksmanship.  (What is it they do in this town again?)  Just after registering, Dave Locke, the skilled marathoner, arrived to wish us well as he was headed out of town.  Very encouraging.  Thanks, Dave.  Then we waited around - inside - until time to start.  As I looked around, I noticed everyone there appeared to be a pretty serious runner.  A few were in shorts (I guess to make sure we knew their level of dedication?), some in their streakers (Rachel's moniker for those awfully tight, figure-unflattering pants that we only wore under our publicly-viewable pants), and there wasn't an iPod in sight.  Apparently that is the sign of a weak-I-need-something-to-distract-me-from-the-pain runner.

So the shot fired, and we were off.  Rachel and I fell to the back and kept our steady pace.  I was afraid to look behind me to see if we were actually the last.  I was relieved when Rachel told me we weren't.  Two minutes later the 70-year-old woman passed us with an encouraging "You can do it!" wave.  I'm not kidding.

Feeling good around mile 5.

The race was going well.  Kenny and Jason, Rachel's husband, were running a great pace for their first half-marathon.  When I caught a glimpse of Rocky Top, however, the notorious hill at mile 8, I decided to walk up it, so Rachel took off.  (Thanks for staying with me that long, Rachel.  I know you could have beat the guys if your annoying friend wasn't holding you back!)  After refueling with a few sips of Gatorade at the top of the hill, I felt energized and ready to run again.  Less than 5 miles left.  

Kenny and Jason with way too much energy for their first half-marathon.  

Dead last in a race of about 50-60 runners, surprisingly, I wasn't feeling too bad.  I think I was even on track to finish by running.  Then, I got lost.  On empty country roads surrounded by suspicious government buildings.  Oh, and plenty of ponds, lakes, and woods to dispose of dead bodies.  As I began to hyperventilate, I tried to focus on the positive. 

 

1. I'm wearing red, so they should spot me from far away - unless I'm on the wrong road.  

2. Mom, Dad, and Andrew should be looking for me pretty soon because they'll be worried when they don't see me with Rachel - unless they can't figure out how to cross the field to get to this part of the course.

3. I just ate some Gu and feel okay - except you're supposed to eat it with water that I was expecting at a station just around the corner.

4. No, there are no positives.  Some strange man is going to drive up and murder me.

5. I'm not kidding.

Afraid I might need to conserve my energy to survive alone in the below freezing temperatures, I decided to walk.  After going about half a mile, I realized I really didn't recognize where I was.  So I turned around.  About five minutes later, which is a really long time when you think you are going to be murdered, I spotted a white Suburban with "Security" written on the side.  I flagged him down and thankfully, he understood my blubbering self as I explained I was running the race and had no idea which way to go.  He pointed me in the right direction, then offered me a ride.  I gladly accepted with only a bit of hesitation as I saw the semi-automatic gun in the console.  What is it they do in this town again?

He took me to the end of that road, and I hopped out to finish the race.  Trying to clear up my emotional self, I lost it again as I saw my two heroes walking over the hill.  Andrew has never looked so good in his red flannel shirt.  Dad generously offered to run with me, and we did.  For about five steps.  If running really is 90% mental, I definitely wasn't in the best of shape to continue.  Mom drove up a few minutes later, and Rachel hopped out ready to add another mile to her already completed race to finish it with me.  Thank you.  I will never forget that.  But, I didn't feel one bit bad about crossing the finish line in Mom's Kia.  Taking into account the mile I went out of the way, I think I must have done a total of about 12 miles.

Side note: I truly believe they should advertise this race as one for advanced runners.  Not because of the difficulty of the course, but because it is totally demoralizing to be dead last - even though you trained for four months - and have the water stations shutting down before you get there.  

Though I wanted to tell the people in charge that they could have their ugly, puke-yellow shirt back, I bit my tongue, grabbed my bagel and headed to Big Ed's.  I'm headed to eat my leftovers right now guilt-free.  And, no, I don't see another half-marathon in my future.  I'm thinking the 5K Jingle Bell Jog sounds like a lot of fun.

And they barely even stretched before the race.

I had to do a vanity check before posting this picture.  Remember - I had just run/walked/panicked through 12 miles in below freezing temperatures.

Thanks again to everyone who contributed to Running Hope.  Thanks to those who prayed. Those who sent cards.  Those who called.  Those who stood outside in the cold to cheer us on.  It means more than you know.