Tie Game

It’s a tie game between me and the beast called the Peachtree Road Race.  I didn’t win, but I didn’t lose. 

It started this morning when I woke up at 5:00 to get myself ready for the Peachtree Road Race.  I was tired, but otherwise feeling fine.  I staggered got out of bed and stammered to the kitchen to make my pre-race breakfast.  As soon as I popped my bagel in the toaster oven I began to feel a little nauseous.  I figured it was pre-race jitters and would get better once I got down to the race; I wasn’t too concerned.  As I sat down in the living room to call my cheering posse to make sure they were awake and were running on time, my nausea increased to the point where I asked Husband to get me a carbonated beverage.  When he brought it to me, I was too ill to even drink it.  I got off the phone and went into the bathroom, where I was not only nauseous but also having GI issues.  As the next few minutes progressed, I grew worse.  I was dizzy and shaking uncontrollably.  I started feeling a tingling at the base of my scalp and my vision went black.  The next thing I know Husband is sitting beside me on the floor calling my name.  I had passed out.  He carried me to the bed since I was still shaking and couldn’t walk straight so I could lie down. 

As I lie in the bed, I wondered what could be wrong with me but came up with nothing.  I had hydrated and fueled myself properly the two days prior to the race.  I had received a good night’s sleep.  I didn’t take any medication that was out of the norm.  I had no idea what was wrong, but my symptoms weren’t getting any better.  I feared I would never make it to the race in the shape I was.  Normally I can run through anything, but when Husband asked me if would be able to go, I whimpered and tearfully told him no.  I couldn’t even dress myself, much less make the effort to get to the race and run.

As I heard Husband on the phone with my cheer team alerting them we were going nowhere, I started feeling better.  My nausea subsided and the room stopped spinning.  I started to wonder if my symptoms were due to anxiety since they were receding at the knowledge of not racing.  The visceral reaction I had experienced was retreating. 

I was able to fall back asleep, albeit fitful rest.  When I woke up around 7:00, I was a little wobbly, but otherwise okay.  No nausea.  No shaking.  No dizziness.  No tunnel vision.  I made myself my pre-run breakfast again and contemplated what had happened to me.  I had invested so much emotionally (not to mention financially) in running the PRR, that I was stunned and shocked not to be at the race.  I couldn’t believe I was missing the world’s largest 10k, the race that was going to define me, the race that was going to prove that I was getting better, the race that would prove that I could handle life on life’s terms.

I alternated between berating myself for not pushing through the symptoms (how do you push through fainting?) and trying to find the silver lining of one of the darkest clouds I’d experienced in a while.    Since insulting myself for symptoms beyond my control would only make me feel worse, I decided to do something positive.  I thought if I couldn’t run the Peachtree, I would go run my own 10k.  So I put on my Peachtree Road Race outfit, replete with my new socks and headband, and hit the trail running.  I ran 8 glorious, exhilarating miles.  No problems. 

Given my symptoms this morning and the fact that I was able to still run 8 miles without incident, I’ve concluded that my symptoms were psychosomatic.  Even though I was intellectually ready and prepped for the Peachtree, psychologically and subconsciously I perceived it to be too stressful and traumatic and so my fears manifested themselves somatically. 

So, sadly, I wasn’t part of the racing community today, and I’m left feeling defeated, broken, and damaged.  But I’m trying to look at the positives of the WHOLE Peachtree Road Race experience.    

• I took risks.  Just signing up for the race was allowing myself the possibility to dream that I could run a large race like a “normal” person.
• I went out of my element and drove myself to downtown Atlanta to join a group of runners to do a practice run of the course.
• I took MARTA down to the Peachtree Road Race Expo, where I was packed in, elbow to elbow, with thousands of other runners picking up their race number and playing with new products and treats.
• I am able to submit my race number to the Atlanta Track Club for a guaranteed spot in next year’s race.

I wrote in “More than just another race” that this race would prove that I can tolerate new, unfamiliar situations.  I wrote that the race would be either the beast that I tame or that would eat me alive.  Well, this year, I didn’t tame the beast, but it didn’t eat me alive either.    In my list of positives, I did prove I could handle new, unfamiliar situations.  Even though I didn’t have the success I wanted, there were moments of triumph along the way.  Now, my hopes are set on next year, when I’ll have the opportunity to toe the start line with the beast again.  Until then, I think the beast and I will just call it a tie for now.

More than just another race

Tomorrow I run the Peachtree Road Race, the world’s largest 10k, and, frankly, I am terrified. 

Wouldn’t you be?  Look at all those people!

I’m not scared of the 6.2 miles; I’m scared of the unknown.  Even though I’ve read all the Atlanta Track Club e-mails, studied the start and finish maps, examined photos of previous races, rode the MARTA system, and did a practice run on the course, I still have no idea what I’m doing or what to expect.   

Six months ago, my fear of the unknown would have precluded me from signing up for the race.  I never would have had the audacity to dream of running the Peachtree Road Race.  Me?  Driving the highways of Atlanta to a public rail station?  Navigating the underbelly of Atlanta’s rail system?  Fighting my way through a crowd of 60,000 runners, plus 150,000 family, friends, and onlookers?  Not me.  I run shy away from the unfamiliar.

So if I’m such a scaredy cat, why run this race?  What makes this race so special? 

• Is it because of the 42,500 ripe, refreshing, sweet Georgia peaches asking for me at the finish line? 

• Is it because of the highly coveted Peachtree Road Race t-shirt that runners would sell their children for?

Tempting, but no.

• ·       Or maybe it’s because I get to wait in line with tens of thousands of people who have to pee and take care of the common runner’s GI issues? 

• Maybe it's because of the unconscionable hot, humid, muggy, intense Georgia weather for which I want to risk heatstroke?

No. Not that either.  Although it certainly adds to the appeal.  But this race means more than that.

This race is a defining moment for me.

This race is either the beast that I will tame, or that will eat me alive. 

This race means more than my Reeboks plowing across the finish line. 

• It means breaking out of my comfort zone and putting me in an uncomfortable situation. 
• It means the unknown.
• It means surrounding me with a crowd I can’t control.
• It means “running” toward the healthy, fulfilling life I want to live; free of an eating disorder and dissociative symptoms.
• It means taking a risk, taking a chance, and not hiding from life anymore. 
• It means ripping me out of my comfort zone.
• It means all that and more.  

Mostly it means progress, and, even though I’m afraid of that too, these are risks I have to take to get better.

I’m ready for it.  So I’m putting it all on the start line tomorrow.  At 7:45, in Corral D, when the gun goes off, I’m proving to myself I can tolerate new, unfamiliar situations.  I’m proving I can succeed in places that normally I would run from.  I’m proving that my fears don’t have to dictate my life.  I’m proving I can do what “normal” people do. 

I saw a t-shirt at the Peachtree Expo from www.onemoremile.net that said (I paraphrase), It’s not that I finished the race, it’s that I started. 

Bring it on, beastie!

Growing up

I tried on a new me today. As I mentioned in my previous post, Lost and Found, I had plans today to put on my grownup, big girl shorts and attitude and drive my fraidy-cat self to down-town Atlanta for a practice run for the Peachtree Road Race.

And I did it!

I woke up unnaturally at 5:30 (damn alarm clock) and ate my normal pre-race breakfast of half a bagel with 2 tbsp of almond butter and a banana (so much food is still a fear for my E.D., but I do it anyway). I was so nervous my stomach decided to grumble and complain about the food until it recoiled at even a hydrating drop of water. But I didn't let it deter me. At 6:30 I left my house and turned on my GPS and navigated the suburbs, highways, and byways to find Big Peach Running Company, the meet-up destination for the participants. Just making it by myself to Atlanta was a score, so I didn’t care if I ran or not.

Not really. I was all about the run.

Since I left early, I arrived early: 7:00. As we were waiting until 7:30 for everyone to arrive, I sat down on the sidewalk and looked down and noticed something funny. Can you tell what it is?

In the 5:30 am, no-coffee-allowed-before-a-race mind fog, I changed out one sock and not the other. So I have on two different socks. Someone less anal than me would have been, “Oh, well,” but not me. So I went inside the store and found a pair of socks.

I didn’t know what to expect, if anything, from “special” running socks, but they were SO not worth the $10 bucks I paid on the fly for them. Boo. But at least I matched after that.

Anyway, at 7:30 we divided ourselves into wave groups according to pace, and when it was my group's turn to go, all I could hear was the sound of beeps going off from everyone’s Garmin being set. I found it amusing. I don’t know why, because I have a Garmin and mine was one of the many beeps playing music, but, still, it made me chuckle. Runners are a peculiar lot.

So I had no warm-up and foolishly didn’t stretch, and I paid dearly for it in the beginning of the run. It wasn’t until after the first mile that I finally began to get in my zone. I had my iPod playing and I was feeling pretty good and was looking around at all the Atlanta landmarks I’ve never seen before. I turned around and looked behind me, and I saw no one. I was the last one in my group. I was the freakin’ caboose. Did this bother my recovery minded, compete-with-no-one, compare yourself to no one attitude? Hell, yeah! But I was still making great time, so I just focused on the backs of the runners in front of me and kept going.

I was warned that around mile four we would come to what has been affectionately known as Cardiac Hill/Heart attack Hill/Heartbreak Hill. Take your pick, they’re all freakin’ true. For one whole miserable mile, it was all uphill. I stopped once, but only for two seconds. Then kept right on going.

All in all, the run took us from Brookhaven to Midtown, a total of 7.0 miles. When we were done, we were given Marta Breeze passes for free to transport us back to Brookhaven where we were parked. Aside from the sock incident, the no stretching, and being the caboose, my run had gone off without a hitch. . . until I made it to the Marta station. I didn’t know what the heck a Breeze pass was or how to use it. I felt really scared, lost, and overwhelmed. I didn't know what to do without looking like a total incompetent. There were other runners in my group using Marta and I could see them staring at my indecision. Finally I summoned the station attendant and asked him what the heck I was doing. He was less than helpful, almost indignant that I didn’t know what to do. So I just copied what my fellow runners were doing and how they were doing it.

I know I looked naïve, but that’s because I am. And that’s okay. I grew up a little today by taking on a new experience, putting myself in new situations, opening myself up to the possibility of good things happening. New experiences always have bumps and curves in the road; there’s no shame in that. It’s how we navigate those turns that prove how successful we are.

And I consider today to be a success!