This race has seemed to have a black cloud hanging over it for awhile now. My training has been pretty on point. I didn’t miss a single workout the last few weeks, and only “missed” one long run the whole time (I did 7 instead of 11, and made up the mileage the next day but didn’t count it as a long run.)
Last weekend, our car started acting up. Our ONE CAR. Luckily, we live close to Robert’s work and I live in my place of work, so it wasn’t too stressful. It ended up being the battery, which was ridiculously expensive (in my opinion) and a huge pain in the butt to change. Anyway, it was changed, car was working, all was well.
Tuesday, the car won’t start again. Robert lifts the hood, tightens some screws, almost get electrocuted, and it works again. Now, this is the point in time where an intelligent person would drive said car to a repair shop to have it looked at and make sure it’s okay before going on an 8 hour roadtrip. But not this family! We ride on the edge of life (i.e. we are too effing lazy).
Also on Tuesday, Robert looks and feels like he has been hit by a truck. This man gets sick maybe twice a year. Of course he gets sick right before a race that we have trained our asses off for. The last time he got sick? We had super awesome plans for a three day weekend during his training and ended up spending three days in the hotel bed feeding him Nyquil. Basically, his body revolts.
He takes medicine, the car keeps running, and then THE GOVERMENT DECIDES IT MIGHT JUST NOT DO IT’S THANG ANYMORE. WTF.
Basically, Robert wouldn’t be able to travel if the government shut down. There’s more to it, but that’s probably all I can say because his job is all top secret and what-not. We find out we WOULD be able to go, but he would be breaking a couple of rules.
So the idea of the race is basically completely up in the air all week. Robert’s sickness gets a little worse, but he feels like he could make the trip and I would just run the race alone. No big deal. Kind of sad, but at least I would have someone at the finish line to cheer me on.
Friday comes. Oh man, Friday. Robert wakes up feeling a million times worse. He is so stuffed up that I have trouble understanding him. He looks drunk, but had refused to take medicine the night before in case he was able to run, and didn’t want to run with medicine in his system (long story as of why. He ran a marathon sick and had medicine and basically almost had kidney failure.)
I’m feeling pretty unsure about driving to the race and am expressing these feelings as we walk towards the car so I can take him to work. Only HAHA the car won’t start. We lift the hood and tighten the screws. Nothing. It starts clicking and honking involuntarily. AAA is called. I cry a little.
At this point, I have absolutely no mojo left for this race. I’m spent. There have been so many signs pointing to “NO” for this thing, and I’m just over it.
The car gets fixed, and then Robert says I will probably be driving to the race alone because he feels so bad.
If the race was an hour away, even 3 hours away, I would consider it. But this race is 8 and a half hours away, and would require an overnight stay in a not very nice hotel (we’re cheap). I made the final decision not to go. But I don’t feel good about it. In fact, I feel awful.
I trained really hard for this race. I woke up early every weekend to run long runs. I ran 11 miles on a treadmill! I ate right, I hydrated, I studied the right foods to eat, I read running articles, and I trained to beat my 2:10 PR. And now I feel like it was all for nothing. Just because I am not willing to drive across the state. To be honest, it wasn’t just the driving and the hotel. I really lost all motivation to run. And I would rather waste $60 staying at home with my sick husband and getting things done that have been put off (for race training, ironic) than to waste $60 not PRing in a race that I am not excited for. We saved money cancelling our hotel and food reservations, as well as gas. So there is that. But unfortunately this is the last half marathon in the state until September. So my half marathon career for the season ends with a 2:10.
So there it is. The story of my first Did Not Finish. I’m contemplating avoiding twitter because a lot of the Florida bloggers are running the IronGirl this weekend in Tampa (which oddly enough, I wanted to do originally, but Robert wanted to run one with me so we chose the Gulf Coast run). I stand by my decision not to run, but at the same time, it doesn’t make it hurt any less to hear about people who aren’t complete babies.
With that, I’m off to the gym. Just because I’m not running 13.1 tomorrow doesn’t mean the running stops here. I’ve got a few 5k’s on the horizon that I am going to kick ass in. 🙂