Race day was… intense.
It was my first major run (LV Rock-N-Roll run), and apparently when you sign up for a half marathon, they don’t send three other people and a volunteer with a cowbell. They send thousands. Corrals. Waves. Announcers. Music. It felt less like a jog and more like boarding a plane to Pound Town, but I was the pound-ee. Pounded? Whichever, basically I was fucked.
I got there a couple hours early because that’s what responsible adults do, especially when they’re not sure how it’ll be to park, get to the waiting area, all that fun stuff. Then I waited, and waited, and waited, then warmed up a bit, and after warming up, we got herded into the starting area. Where we stood. For over an hour.
By the time I crossed the starting line, my feet were already sore from just standing there, so that was a promising start.
To be completely honest, I was 100% unprepared for the distance. I hadn’t really trained the last three months. Life happened, winter fuckit reared its ugly head, motivation took a vacation somewhere warmer, and miles weren’t logged. So I did the only thing I could think of that day, my 3/1 run-walk plan.
That lasted about half the race. After that, I started dialing down the run times and dialing up the walking. My left hip, knee, and ankle were starting to bother me, and each start of the run segment got harder and more painful to start. By mile 10, my right calf had decided it was done negotiating, and any time I even attempted to run I could feel it quivering and ready to cramp up on me (and yes, I had electrolytes, water, and whatever guu they had whenever it was offered), so the last 3ish miles were just me and my thoughts when my headphones died. Seriously Apple, 3 hours and one airpod shits the bed?
And my thoughts were not inspirational, especially as the noticeably pregnant woman jogged past me (mad props!). But, I kept going, kept walking, kept grinding, and when I saw the Mile 13 marker, I dug deep for one last push. No matter how dead I was, I’ve always run across the finish line, so I starting hobbling, then moving a little better, then got to a shambling, zombie-like run.
Crossing the finish line wasn’t some slow-motion movie moment, it was more “please don’t let me collapse and have to crawl across this finish line”. I wasn’t overwhelmed with pride. I wasn’t crying. I was… numb. My left hip, knee, and ankle were screaming. My right hip cramped when I “ran” the last tenth of a mile just so I could say I finished running.
And then, because the universe has a shitty sense of humor, I had to walk a mile back to the car. Including stairs. Down a block, up one flight of stairs then down another, then down another block, and up and down another flight of stairs. That may have been the hardest mile of the day.
Monday morning was brutal. Everything hurt. I spent the day hydrating, eating, trying to rest and not move too much, and recover. I got to bed early, knowing Tuesday was going to be even worse.
Tuesday wasn’t exactly worse, but it wasn’t much better. My hips and knees were a little improved, but my quads were soooo much worse. Stairs. I don’t want to talk about stairs.
Wednesday was surprisingly a lot better. My quads were still sore, but it was more “Hard Leg Day” than “Replaced my quads with live wires”. Thursday I was feeling almost normal, and I would have taken a light walk, but work had other plans. By Friday I was normal again, but since I was starting back to the gym on Monday, I decided to just relax, sleep in a bit, and enjoy the down time.
So here’s where things stand. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday I’m back in the gym, and Tuesday and Thursday will be some walks, partly to ease back in, partly because I’m still nursing some impressive blisters on my feet and toes. Next Saturday I’ll try a couple of short recovery runs, and after a few weeks of that, I’m starting a 10K plan.
Not because I need another medal (tho if anyone would like to send me a medal, I won’t complain!), but because I signed up for the half-marathon in 2027 already, and this time I’m going to actually train for it. I’m still working toward my goals for my Fit By 50 program, and running is a part of that.
Still lifting. Still losing. Still showing up. Usually.
The Recomp Chronicles 