The 15k Race Arrived...And I Survived

You my remember that we are doing the Tough Mudder 10-12 mile obstacle race in May.  Well, several months ago I signed us up for the Pensacola Double Bridge Run.  It is a 15k, which translates into normal speak as 9.3 miles.  My intention was to motivate us to run and practice.  WELLLLLL....this was happening until Christmas time-ish, when we both got sick and then apparently...just got lazy.  We hadn't ran the entire month of January.  The last time we ran, we completed 6.5 miles...half of those miles we walked.

So come last Saturday, we fully embraced the possibility that we may die.

Above is the picture of the first bridge (there are two...hence the name of Double Bridge) that led us from downtown Pensacola to Penasacola Beach.  You finish a 5k before you even get to the first bridge.

So we lined up at the starting line and found our way to the 12 minute mile group.  In my mind, I was aiming to maintain a 12:30 pace.  If you ran slower than a 14 mile pace, the "sag wagon" would pick you up.  Seriously...if you are too slow, a bus picks you up.

No thank you.  I fear this bus.  I promised anyone who would listen that if the bus was on my ass...I was jumping off a bridge.

So we started off.  And as with most races, a couple of things happen.

#1.  Runners law of physics:  Even if you peed 18 times before a race, as soon as the race actually starts, you will have to pee again.

#2.  You will always run faster at the beginning (we were running a 10 minute mile for the first mile or so).

#3.  The first 2 miles you want to quit. 

So with a full bladder and 7 or so miles left in front of me, I almost had a nervous breakdown.  Heather and our friend Natalie (who is also doing the tough mudder with me) had long ago decided to run my pace.  You see, they are sick in the head and know that if they didn't run my pace, they would go all out and yes...get a better time...but be miserable and in compete mode.  So they run my pace so they can giggle and talk the entire way...

seriously.

It ain't right.

But I had to pee at mile 2, and there was a water station with 2 port-a-potties.  I wasn't stopping.  I was afraid I would never start again.

So I made it to mile 6.  And found a lone portapotty and peed.  I was a brand new woman....for a few more miles anyway.

I ran, never walking...until about mile 7.5.  At this point...death was upon me.  There was no white light.  There was no warm feeling.

There were just tons of people in spandex and fanny packs that held water bottles.

Heather and Natalie would get in front of me...and while they were waiting for me to catch up...Heather would do push-ups (someone running beside me said "Oh that's funny"...I told her "no it's not.  That's my girlfriend...you can kick her in the teeth if you would like"...) and Natalie would play air guitar.

I walked for about 15 seconds and then started running again. 

At mile 8.5...with less a mile to go...my legs started turning to stone.  Usually when I get close to the finish line, I have a surge of energy. 

I am not kidding.  There was no surge to be had. This is how bad it was...Natalie was trying to motivate me and tell me there would be cameras at the end...

I didn't even care.

Yes. Amy Workman didnt care about photo ops.

I told you!  Death was upon me.

Somehow though...we did cross that finish line.

And I sobbed.  Happy tears.  Tears of pride.  We finished in one hour and 52 minutes.  It was an amazing moment.  I kept thinking about how four years ago...at the beginning of this journey...I could barely walk a mile.

Today my quads are still not cooperating with the action of walking. I have a couple of blisters on my foot, and my abs are a little sore.

Heather and Natalie after the race, enjoying their free beers.

Me on Sunday morning...enjoying my Waffle House chocolate chip and peanut butter chip covered waffle and bacon.