DNF

"DNF" stands for Did Not Finish. Yup. I ran most of a half marathon on Saturday. I still can hardly believe that I am only saying "most". You see, when I signed up for this half marathon, there was no doubt in my mind that I would finish the race. In fact, I trained harder than I have for any race previously. I have run countless 5Ks & 10ks, 4 half marathons, 1 full marathon,  and completed 95 mile bike rides and 3 triathlon sprints.  I LOVE this kind of thing! I have done it before. I felt like an "expert" so much so that I gave myself a goal....to run it this year in less than 1 hour and 50 minutes.  Last year I ran the very same half marathon in 1:51:37.  All I had to do was shave about 11 seconds off per mile and I would meet my goal.  I trained faithfully...I did almost every single run... sprints, tempo runs, long runs all the while doing Body Pump twice a week to keep up my strength training and stay strong. I even switched out one run a week for a cycle class to cross train.  I thought I had  covered all my bases.  And then the week of the race arrived and they were predicting a cold front to come through the day before the race!  Yipeee!  I knew it was iffy for me to meet my goal. But if there was any way for me to do it...I needed cold weather.  Thank you, Lord! I love, love, LOVE to run in cool temps!

Precious, sweet friends

When I started the race I was mostly just excited.  It was so fun to drive up to the race site with sweet friends. I was so excited to run a race with many others I knew.  I began running and within 2 miles  I knew I was going too fast.  Too fast to keep it at that pace ( maybe a  7:45/mile) ...but I did for about 5 miles before sending my speedy friend on her way ahead.  I still felt ok...in fact, I had trouble slowing down much.  My pace continued below an 8:00 min/mile until at least the 8 mile mark.  That is probably too fast for me.  I only run at that pace if I'm running less than 5 miles.  But I kept at it.  Somewhere around 10 miles I began to walk occasionally.  I remember racing up hills. But then walking at the top. I remember feeling super frustrated with myself for walking.  You see, even though I was trying to run "fast" - I don't consider myself super-speedy. I'm usually steady...the kind of gal that can just keep running, and running, and running.  But I was walking. Maybe this should have been my clue.  Anyway...I remember reaching 11 miles..and I think I even remember 12 miles...or almost 12....but after that I don't remember a thing. I can picture the road in front of me and feel myself running.  I remember feeling so very tired...wishing it was over....cursing my phone app for telling me I should just about be done--but I wasn't. I had over a mile to go.

Next thing I am aware of...I am being  lifted on a stretcher into an ambulance.  I am hyperventilating. I feel so strange.  Am I dying?  I have NO idea what happened.  But I do know one thing. I DID NOT FINISH!  In the ER at the hospital I was so mad at myself....what happened to me?  Did I pass out?  was I dehydrated?  I have NO idea.  Friends begin to fill Paul in and I learned that I sat down, laid down, vomited a number of times....that I was talking to people...to my friends...asking them to get Paul...apparently apologizing for a number of things....I was speaking coherently...I recognized my friends...or at least their voices...but I don't REMEMBER any of this.  I don't remember when I stopped running. I don't remember lying along the side of the road.  Or when I vomited. Or when my sweet friends Gigi and Mary called my dear husband and tried to help me.  I don't remember who any of the others were that helped me.  This still freaks me out a bit.

Anyway...I spent that day and half of the next in the hospital. I had all sorts of tests done and for the most part everything was fine or as was expected of someone who had just run 12 miles.  I was definitely dehydrated.  I'm hoping that's all it was.  The cardiologist saw some warning flags in my blood work which I'm going to get checked out this week.

Mostly, this was humbling. And honestly I'm incredibly disappointed. I feel a bit like a failure...I mean, not only did I not meet my goal...I didn't even FINISH.  But God is definitely teaching me. One thing He is showing me is His incredible love for me.  Through His people.  The outpouring of love from friends has been pretty incredible.  God is also reminding me that He doesn't love me BECAUSE I can run. He loves me because He created me and because I am His child.  Honestly, I wasn't depending on Him. I was doing it in my own strength.  I was sure I could do it. Boy, was I wrong!

My biggest fans!

 I was sharing with a friend today that I wish I could have crossed the finish line and THEN collapsed--if this really had to happen.  But she gently reminded me...that I don't know what would have happened in that 13th mile.  God has His hand on my life and whatever the reason, He didn't allow me to finish.  Maybe He was protecting me from greater danger.

My hospital bracelet & bib...
never thought I'd post a pic of these  together :-(

I  feel silly mourning such a petty thing-- a running race.  Especially when people are facing much more serious things...such devastating, trying things.  But I AM sad.  I LOVE running & racing & competing.  Not because I win. Nope. I probably never will. I love it because I feel strong...because I love having a goal to accomplish. I love "escaping" reality for a long run on Saturdays. I'm afraid that the cardiologist will tell me I can't exercise anymore.  That there is something wrong with me. I don't want to be limited. I know I am. But I don't want to be told this. Anyway....I'm kind of getting dramatic here. It is very likely that I will be given a clean bill of health after they run a few more tests. It is likely that I will just be told to more carefully DRINK before and during my runs. And THEN I will have to gather the courage to try again. ;-)