Where's the VIP Port-a-potties?

Whelp, the race season is finally at a close.  I ran my last half marathon in Rehoboth last Saturday.  And, much like the other races this year...it was something.

I arrived in my favorite place in the world, Rehoboth Beach on Friday around noon, cranked the heat in my parent's trailer and wandered aimlessly for a bit before heading down to help out with race bib pick up.  Since I do not have the ability to entertain myself for more than a few minutes, I headed to the tent a bit early and got to hand out with some pretty awesome other volunteers. We frantically handed out race bibs and bags until 4, then I headed back to the mobile home village (village because we are fancy) to meet up with my girls.  We joked, laughed, ate too much fried food, and headed to be at 9:00pm.

Saturday, we all work up ready to complain about the cold far more than actually running.  While in line at the port-a-potties, frantically checked my watch for the billionth time, and realized that there were approximately 5 minutes until the start of the race and that's when I started to FREAK. Despite desperately needing to stay in line, I left and headed to the start.

The gun goes off, and away we go.  I clicked through the first mile in a decent, but not too fast 6:45.  Halfway through mile 2, I was thanking my lucky stars that port-a-potties were stationed every 2 miles.  So, needless to say, I took a very fast pit stop.  One of the greatest advantages to being in a lead pack in any race is that if you have to stop on the course, the bathrooms are virtually spotless. Which is awesome.  So, back to running.  I clicked through the next 5 miles in good shape, right around the 1:31 pace which was my goal.  Mile 7 was rough.  We were back in town and heading out to the gravel trail section.  All of a sudden stomach cramps hit, and hit HARD.  I was barely running, doubled over, and trying not to throw up.  Pit stop number 2 was at mile 8 and I barely made it.  At this point I was running with an older guy and he gave a huge sigh when he saw me haul it into the bathroom because he knew he was back to being a lonesome runner.  Sorry dude.

When I finally got out and back to running, one of the women who looked to be in my age-group-ish was just ahead.  I caught up to her and we ran together for the next few miles.  Once I hit 11, I knew I had to stop again and give up on the dream of beating the girl in the green shirt.  Another quick stop (which has NEVER happened to me before), and I headed back on to Rehoboth Ave.  By mile 12.5, I just mentally said "F#$k it", you're killing yourself to take off a few seconds, you already didn't meet your goal, just have fun.  So, I started high fiving little kids, congratulating other runners (mostly dudes that I was passing near the finish line), and getting a huge hug from one of the volunteers that I had worked with the previous day. 

I can't say I was thrilled with my performance, but sometimes you just have to remember that as runners, we are all in this together and we just need to be thankful that we can put one foot in front of the other. Let's face it, the alternative to that sucks.  Big time.

In the end, as I look back on this year, it was certainly emotionally exhausting.  I did not come close to a PR, but I can end the year with being satisfied with having a lot of new experiences like running Boston, RW Half, Philly half, and ending my year with having an amazing weekend with some of my best running girlfriends.  Now, it's time to bring on the holiday binge eating and starting to prepare for a happy, injury free 2018.

Cheers friends, and happiest running to you!