The sign, pre-death-mountain that says "Maam Cross 8km" (5 miles). "Oh, is that all?? Just 5 more miles from here?? Just up over that mountain?? Oh, sure, ya...ok. I can get there on foot. Definitely." Then, swearing out loud to myself, as I turn and see this hill (below).
As we turned the corner, at mile 8.5, we see a thin row of brightly-colored runners going up the thin road between these two mountains. This gives no sense of scale of this valley but we traversed the whole thing, to the base of the mountain on the other side and then on up, up, up for 2 miles.
Wayne, coming into the finish and cheering as he sees Norah & Clare!! I am so proud of this guy. I want to shout my bragging for him, from the rooftops!
We parted at mile 9 1/2 (me needing to walk on death-mountain) and once he broke away he fllleeeeewww up that hill. (I hesitate to call it a hill. It is a full-on mountain pass that cars downshift on.)
And for any runners... I'll have you know Wayne ran mile 11 (the toughest of the entire race, up that pass) at an 8:00/mile pace. FAST, I mean, that's fast on a hill of any size, let alone that one. I mean, for most people (me included) that's a fast sprint on a flat.
I came in 7 minutes after Wayne which I was shocked and pleasantly surprised by. It took me an hour and 42 minutes to run 11 miles - I know this because in one walking break, up "death-mountain", at the 11 mile marker, a girl asked me the time (come on...this is hardly the time to be casually asking if someone "has the time") :) Anyway, I smile and say, (gasp, drool, gasp) "it's 1:42....oh, wait, that's how long we've been running. One sec (clicking thru watch setting). Oh, it's also exactly 1:42 pm..." Wow, that was an exciting story.... Anyway, just giving some backstory so I don't sound like an insane-person for knowing it took me 1 hour 42 minutes to run the 11 hail-filled-85km hour wind-ravaged-sideways-rain-throwing-death-miles. No, it was fun....it was loads o' fun.
Anyway, the point is...my asthma and heart were so angry with me by mile 11 that it then took me 27 minutes of run/walking to make it the last 2 miles...It was an eternity for me. Not to mention, the sideways wind coming through the mountain pass blew me from the center line, nearly OFF the road, 5 or 6 times. No matter what, this truly feels like cruel and unusual punishment.
But honestly, I learned a very real lesson on this run. I learned to respect my body and, most importantly, my asthma and my heart. I knew a young guy (28) died on this half marathon a couple years prior (heart attack, otherwise fiercely fit and athletic), and another young guy also died on a similar half marathon in Dingle last year. The night before, I had nightmare after nightmare about dying on the course and having a heart attack on the big hill. (not a great night) But, in the race, when I felt my body was beyond 100%, I walked. I never do and this time I listened.
Lesson learned: I was more miserable on this run than I can describe here and I will never ever put myself through that again. I was in the hospital on my 30th birthday (last year) with a similar lung infection and had to drop out of Connemara. This year, I knew I was not as sick and there was absolutely no way I was going to miss this race again. (that's ego-talking there, not common sense)
Most importantly, I wanted to run this race beside Wayne, who had also worked so hard to get there. I wanted us to achieve this side-by-side (and we did).
But honestly, I learned a very real lesson on this run. I learned to respect my body and, most importantly, my asthma and my heart. I knew a young guy (28) died on this half marathon a couple years prior (heart attack, otherwise fiercely fit and athletic), and another young guy also died on a similar half marathon in Dingle last year. The night before, I had nightmare after nightmare about dying on the course and having a heart attack on the big hill. (not a great night) But, in the race, when I felt my body was beyond 100%, I walked. I never do and this time I listened.
Lesson learned: I was more miserable on this run than I can describe here and I will never ever put myself through that again. I was in the hospital on my 30th birthday (last year) with a similar lung infection and had to drop out of Connemara. This year, I knew I was not as sick and there was absolutely no way I was going to miss this race again. (that's ego-talking there, not common sense)
Most importantly, I wanted to run this race beside Wayne, who had also worked so hard to get there. I wanted us to achieve this side-by-side (and we did).
Now I know though, slight cold = no race. If my immune system is compromised, I will never again line up for a race. (I know this probably sounds like ridiculous no-brainer-nonsense but its something you can only understand if you've invested months (or years) in training.)
So, in the end, while it was agony for 2 hours, I had to go through it because 1) I'm stubborn and 2) so I could be given a hard dose of the reality of asthma. I've had this disease since birth and in many ways, I pretend I don't (with regard to running). I run with a strike against me, so in a way, I can be doubly proud of my achievements and that's how I'll try to see it.
So, in the end, while it was agony for 2 hours, I had to go through it because 1) I'm stubborn and 2) so I could be given a hard dose of the reality of asthma. I've had this disease since birth and in many ways, I pretend I don't (with regard to running). I run with a strike against me, so in a way, I can be doubly proud of my achievements and that's how I'll try to see it.
Finish Line
Wayne: positively elated. Gloria: mid-asthma attack, attempting to pull corners of mouth up and bare teeth in "smile". "Can I lay....down...just here?"
So, so happy to have run this beside my husband and to have felt that immense pride welling in me as I saw him ascend that hill at the end. I so badly wanted to cheer out loud for him but was doing everything in my power to keep breathing and not pass out.
Right afterward, what did he say? "I think I might sign up for the Dublin Marathon. I think I could do it." (no doubt, he could do it in 2 months but that's beside the point). To see him accomplish this and enjoy it so much was really incredible. He's a naturally gifted athlete and I am so proud of him. That doesn't really describe the feeling well but it's the only adjective I have available. There's something powerful about completing any long-distance event (in whatever sport), with your spouse. To go through something like this side-by-side is just incredible. If it's possible, I love him more now. Looking forward to many, many more.
So, so happy to have run this beside my husband and to have felt that immense pride welling in me as I saw him ascend that hill at the end. I so badly wanted to cheer out loud for him but was doing everything in my power to keep breathing and not pass out.
Right afterward, what did he say? "I think I might sign up for the Dublin Marathon. I think I could do it." (no doubt, he could do it in 2 months but that's beside the point). To see him accomplish this and enjoy it so much was really incredible. He's a naturally gifted athlete and I am so proud of him. That doesn't really describe the feeling well but it's the only adjective I have available. There's something powerful about completing any long-distance event (in whatever sport), with your spouse. To go through something like this side-by-side is just incredible. If it's possible, I love him more now. Looking forward to many, many more.
