Liz Rabideau

Feb 23, 2014

It finally arrived. The day I was dreading. Back in December when I signed up for the Hyannis Half Marathon I had just finished my Holiday Challenge (running everyday from Thanksgiving to New Year’s Day) and I was feeling invincible.

And then THE WINTER OF 2014 struck.

Bitterly cold weather and big snowstorms quickly defined the months of January and February. All of my best hibernating instincts kicked into high gear. For me getting to and from the car; across snow mounds and ice thicker than an Olympic skating rink was proving to be as much exertion as I would muster. Who knew that shivering could take so much out of even the most conditioned 50-year-old quasi-athlete???

I got myself to the gym but could never get myself to run further than five miles on the treadmill and forget venturing outside. Only one outlier weekend with weather nearing the 40’s allowed me two outdoor runs but even then I ran no more than 6 miles. And yet this race; this half marathon; this “start to my glorious 2014 season” was quickly approaching.

I tried bringing my gym clothes in the car to work hoping it would motivate me to stop at the gym on my home in the evening. That happened once.

I tried putting a motivational calendar with stickers on my refrigerator. I only succeeded in sticking 5 stickers on.

I tried to admonish myself.

I tried blogging and posting about my lack of motivation.

I tried reading inspirational stories and Pinning inspirational sayings on Pinterest.

Still nothing.

None of these things slowed down the passing days and the building dread that I just hadn’t trained enough for a half marathon. This would be only my second half marathon; the first was glorious. This second one was looking like it was going to possibly be the worst ever.

I worried I would slip on ice; get an over-use injury; kneel over from exhaustion at mile 3 yet even these fears didn’t change my lackadaisical attitude toward my training.

I counted the days till the event and calculated how many runs and how far I would have to run to prepare.

Nothing.

I talked to my husband that maybe I wouldn’t do the race. He commented that I wasn’t a quitter.

I got so nervous I got sick two days before the race and laid on the couch worrying. It was cold outside. The ice was piling up. I hadn’t trained; I was sick; I was scared.

Saturday came and miraculously the sun came out and warm weather flowed into the region. The snow melted and I ventured outside without a coat for the first time in months. It was a gorgeous day; the perfect day for a run but I knew I couldn’t run if I had any last hopes of doing the half marathon the next day. So I went out and enjoyed the day having lunch with my daughter and doing errands—without a coat!

“So are you going to do the race?” my husband asked me Saturday night.

“Of course!” I replied, feeling a renewed energy gained from a day in the sun.

Sunday morning arrived and I went through my normal pre-race ritual: downing 16 ounces of water and a cup of coffee, eating a banana and ½ a Zone Bar.

I put on my winter running outfit, lucky hat, favorite sneakers, and race belt with Kleenex and newly loaded playlist on the all important iPod. I walked downstairs and announced I was ready to go.

The sun was out again and the car thermometer indicated that it was already 45 degrees outside at 9am. Luck was with me. We got to the race start and waited for the race to begin. I was nervous but I was familiar with the feeling. I knew it was just pre-race jitters and not all-out panic.

I had come to the resolution that I knew how to run. That I had not gotten out of shape. I decided I would pace myself appropriately; do regular body check-ins and if I had to stop or had to walk that that would be ok.

And I finally forgave myself for not training.

When the start gun went off I was at peace with myself and started my race.

Thankfully the weather held and while there were cool breezes coming off the water the air felt warm for the entire race. I remembered that half marathons are long races and that to motivate myself to keep going I had to mark checkpoints in my head and break my run down into mini goals…get to Veterans Park to Craigville Beach to Rte 28 then onto the finish line.

I did my regular body check-ins and it wasn’t until mile 12 that I felt it. I was starting to bonk. I reviewed my strategy. Had I eaten enough? Had I taken in enough water at the water stations? Was my music motivating?

None of that mattered. I couldn’t feel my legs or my body for that matter. What was going to get me through that last mile? I called on my Grandparents. Long since gone from the earth but never gone from my heart and mind I gave it all up to them. “Take me by my shoulders and GET ME TO THE FINISHLINE!” I implored.

Honestly I don’t have much memory of that last mile. As I got close to the finish line I saw my husband waving and shouting my name, “Go, Liz go!!!” I smiled and relaxed; I was close; I rounded the last corner to the finish line and the cheers from my daughter, son and his best friend filled my ears. I ran toward them to give them a high five knowing that I was using up precious seconds but WHO CARED??? I crossed the finish line and fell into my husband’s arms, “I did it, I did it! Water, water!”

And like that it was over. I had completed my first race of 2014 and I had run the whole 13.1 miles!

When I checked in online later that day to see my time I realized that I had PR’ed!

WHAT?

Only by seconds mind you but I managed to run this crazy half marathon in the middle of one of the coldest, snowiest, most un-motivating winters in New England and run faster that the ideal conditions of October’s Hartford Half Marathon. Wow.

Crazy! But that is the fun of sports…the unexpected can happen at any time!