27: Staten Island Dropout

I think it's only fair I tell you the truth about what happened today. I started the Staten Island Half Marathon well after the gun, and then, thanks to a confluence of negative indicators, made the decision to drop out some time after mile five.

First, I am still sick. My head's congested, my ears pop with every blow, and I've got a bit of a catch in my lungs. Nothing terrible. I wouldn't miss work for this; so I figured I wouldn't miss a run. But, I also didn't get much sleep. Four hours. I had a small bit of chocolate around 8PM last night and I'm a sensitive bird - the caffeine wound me up. I also changed my fueling routine this week. I didn't eat pasta on Friday night, carbs Saturday, and then starve Saturday night. I barely ate on Friday and Saturday, actually. Not on purpose - I just wasn't hungry because I was so sick. Then this morning, I didn't have coffee until 7:30AM because I broke my coffee pot, and I didn't eat breakfast as usual, or hydrate, or lick salt, or take a gel before I started running. Not such a great foundation. All that stuff really matters.

Then, I did what you're not supposed to do and I changed other more critical parts of my routine. Instead of shorts, I wore 3/4 length running pants, which I didn't like, and sunglasses, which I did like, and a new pair of Zoot compression socks which were pretty much the death of me. Compression socks are just really, really tight knee socks that are supposed to manage blood flow in your legs to help with your recovery after a race. I had such a hard time recovering from my 18 mile run, and then a pinched calf and hamstring last weekend, it was recommended to me that I might try them. All they did for me was make my legs feel like lead weights, and irritate me. I couldn't take them off though once I started because I didn't have other socks with me to change into.

As if all that weren't enough, at mile two, I got a stabbing pain in my abdomen. "Stomach issues" is how a friend recommended I blog about this. Use your imagination. I was on a stretch with decidedly no bathroom, nothing public at all, except a guard booth in front of what looked like it might be a jail. I could barely walk I was in so much pain. I hobbled to the guard and asked if there was a bathroom inside I could use, knowing she would say no, but having no other choice but to ask.

The guard looked me up and down as a feral cat she seemed very familiar with wound around her legs. No, she said, the only bathroom was in a building a few hundred feet away and it was closed. I pleaded my case thinking, she must have a key - where would she go? She then said she wasn't allowed to take me there, and anyway, it was very dirty. I said I didn't care - better than going behind a parked car! She said to wait a minute.

I waited while she walked all the way into the building and eventually came back to tell me she'd take me to the bathroom, but I needed to show her ID first, and she was going to have to watch me. OK! Whatever. I produced my driver's license and we went.

When all that was over, I was ready to drop out. The guard looked disappointed and encouraged me to keep going. I really had only lost 20 or so minutes. There were still people on the course. I blew my nose for the 5th time and set off again.

Not long after that, my right foot started to give me a lot of trouble. I forgot to wear my compression wrap today for some reason and I felt it. That plus the compression socks started to make both of my calves throb, especially the right one. I don't mean like a little mild pulsing - I mean, clenching pain - cramps.

I stopped to reflect on my situation. My stomach still wasn't right. My legs were like lead. My foot was as bad as ever. I even started to get a dusty film on my forehead, a symptom of not having had enough salt in the days before. I thought, what AM I doing? This isn't fun. I'm not feeling challenged. I've always wondered when might be the right moment to actually drop out of a race and I think this might be it! Just then my friend Sarah passed me in the opposite direction, crossed the median, and came over to hug me! I said, "Don't wait for me!" which made me feel better because I'd been worried that I would make her miss a ferry back, since they only run on the hour. Sarah went on to have a PR! Go Sarah!!! And she ended up waiting for me anyway - such a good friend.

After I hit 5 miles, I started asking volunteers where I could pick up the infamous "sweeper" bus; but nobody knew. Eventually, I found a volunteer (hey Christine!) who suggested I just wait 45 minutes for the volunteer bus which would be coming by; turns out there is no sweeper bus! Just an empty threat to keep runners motivated!

I ended up having a great chat with Christine, who was actually at the Disney Wine & Dine Half Marathon last weekend too, and she seconded the awful conditions and organization at that race. She's done the Goofy Marathon down there, and lots of other marathons and halves, and gave me some great advice!

The volunteer bus took me to the finish. Not for one minute did I regret my decision. Today just wasn't a good day for me. I wasn't prepared. I've got injuries that weren't rested, iced and healed enough. I was sick. The socks were a super-bad idea. When I took them off on the ferry back, every vein in my feet pulsed up through the skin like navy blue electrical cords! It was kind of scary.

I guess every real runner has dropped out of a race some time. Usually I have some kind of fear motivating me but I'm feeling less and less afraid of things since I started this journey. Reality isn't so bad, most of the time; and when it is, it's OK to acknowledge that and take action to make yourself more comfortable. I've played with the idea of dropping out so many times that in a strange way, I feel powerful today to have really done what I've wanted to do before. That, at least, mitigates some of the shame, disappointment, and concern I also feel about not sticking to my schedule. I'm trying to keep it in perspective though. I'm sick. It's just one race. And, let's face it, I'll have my chance to run in Staten Island again soon enough. Verrazano, or bust.