Oklahoma City hosts the most remarkable #RunToRemember to benefit the Oklahoma City Memorial and Museum and to honor those who were killed, those who survived and those changed forever in the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing. I had the privilege to compete in the half-marathon last weekend.
It’s a long way to travel to run 13.1 miles but it was worth it. I’ve been wanting to run this course for years and finally made it there with two of my runner friends. The weather was perfect, the race exceptionally well managed, and our hotel beautiful. I set my sights on a podium finish and trained to finish in 1 hour and 40 minutes (a 7:38 pace).
My preparation was interrupted for a variety of reasons and I missed some substantial training runs. My sleep was comprised and my nutrition inadequate, but I woke up on race morning feeling top of the world. I convinced myself thatI just might be able to pull it off. My friend Melissa braided my hair (is it even really a race if your hair isn’t braided?), I ate a cold baked potato, and we set off for the start line in the dim light of early morning.
We got tangled up at bag check, but a good friend takes care of that every time, and I rolled into Coral A for a quick warmup. Time stood still during the 168-second moment of silence and we all held that emotion in our hearts as we approached the start line.
I’ve written before about the energy of being in a coral with 15,000+ other runners and I hope you get to experience it yourself someday. There’s nothing like it. And this morning was no different. We set our watches, we got in position, and we waited for the countdown. The race began.
I felt strong, started steady, crisp air, and light feet. I’ve never run with a friend before, but Chuck was right there with me. We checked in with each other every 800 yards or so, “You good?” And we were good. Until.
About mile six. My stomach started feeling upset which has never happened to me on a course. Chuck was encouraging, kept the pace, steered us toward the water stations, and distracted us with chatter. Finally, at mile ten, I had to pull off the course. I knew we would lose time but I also knew our pace was dragging because I felt so sick.
I gave in to the nausea and that did the trick. I bounced back onto the course, caught up to Chuck, and started to push our pace. I knew that a PR and a podium finish were out of reach, but I was confident that we could recover some lost time. He got on my heel and we ran.
Mile 11 on 8:03. Mile 12 on 7:34. Mile 13 on 7:06.
We finished fast and we finished happy.
Chuck posted a 4th place age group and I posted an 8th place age group. Out of 6366 runners we were the 406th and 407th people to cross the finish. Not bad after a cleanup on mile ten.
When run well, every race is its own monomyth. You heed the call, encounter the obstacles, and return changed by the journey. That’s what a race is: every step a verse, every mile a prayer, every course a sermon. It’s #WhyIRun.