Day 171: Chattahoochee Road Runners 10K: The Finale! ***UPDATED***

Well you've seen me through it all...when I started training for the 10K, when I was too sick to run, when I finally put some gusto back into my training, when I was set back with a near-puking experience, and when I triumphed around Chastain Park. It's been a not-so-solid ride with this training, having been broken up by TWO trips as well as a bout of illness.

But the 10K came, in due time, and I finally got the chance to strut my stuff.

Mark and I woke up on Saturday for the 10K, only to find that there was a steady stream of rain just going at it outside. Checked the weather--no chance of it letting up all day.

But the rain couldn't deter me, I was so jazzed up to get this thing out of the way. I've put off a lot of what I've needed to do for Atlanta Yoga Scene, my yoga practice in general, and this blog aside to get myself in running shape, and by god, I just wanted it to be over with.

Must have a sense of humor about oneself running!
Please click on it to make it bigger...haha
Plus, I had a REALLY good run a couple days before the race, and I was thinking I'd champion this thing and surprise myself by running the whole way.

So Mark and I drove to the race, parked and hung out in his car near the check-in and start line, to avoid going into the cold rain.  Mark was generally peeved about the lost sleep getting up for this thing, dreading the upcoming wet socks and cold appendages, and annoyed by my excitement.  Me, I was giddy as a freaking three year old about to go on an excellent adventure through the Hershey's factory or something.

I also want to interject that I was excited because I thought that I had a fighting chance at beating Mark in the race. I had beat him in the Peachtree 10K last year, and he hadn't trained as hard as I had for this race, so I was CERTAIN that I had a chance. He's an athletic guy, but I'm determined, dammit.

We eventually succumbed to the fact that we were going to get wet and the rain would continue, and waiting in the car was delaying the inevitable, so we went out to the starting line.

After a little playful "I'll be waiting for you at the finish line" banter, the shot was fired and we were off!

I started my slow and steady pace, feeling great, but noticed a lot of people running past me. I thought it was one of those everyone-starts-too-fast-and-walks-later kinds of things, but after two miles, I was the last of the last and NO ONE was walking. AT ALL. And in fact, I only ever saw a handful of people walking the whole being a shameful participant towards the end.

Now, a history: when I ran the Peachtree last year, I was about middle of the pack, but that's because the pack was (literally) 60,000 people, and more than a couple who hadn't trained for the race. I was expecting something similar. I knew that the people running the CRR had trained some, but I had too! Thus my surprise when everyone, and I mean EVERYONE ran clear past my 10:00 mile pace within the first couple of miles.

The psychological warfare waged by this fact was brutal. I'm a 23 year old girl with no more juice in the tank than a 60-something year old man.


Drowned, near dead rat.
I ran as well as I could, I guess, but was defeated again when I had to stop at mile four. Although I was semi-proud of that four miles, the fact that I had to stop really took a toll. I knew that I had only ever really pushed myself to four miles, but I'd always felt really good after those four miles, as if I could have taken another mile without an issue. And they always say that you run better in a race than in training.

I had relied on voodoo luck to make it.

Bollocks. My fault.

I trudged through the rest of the race, embarrassed, unhappy, tired and aware that I'll probably not make it to half-marathon status this year. Or ever.

I ended up at the finish line at 1:03 something at the VERY bottom-most part of the Mark cheering me on with "I MADE IT IN 55!!!!"

While I was genuinely excited for my wonderful, loving boyfriend, my inner jealous, competitive self was like "RUB IT IN WHY DON'T YOU?!"

Anyhoo, since Mark was waiting with his dad, I put on a happy face and did the "yay, I feel great!" routine, but after Mark's dad made a comment about the winner's time of 38:00 being slow, I decided that I'm done with running. I'm last in my age group and damn near last in the race.

Okay, okay, so my last time was 1:10, meaning I took a minute per mile off my time, so I should be happy about that. Mostly, however, I feel like a loser. But I did run a 10K in the rain.


  1. I'm sorry to read how discouraging the race was. I had to remind myself after my last race (which was an disaster, both for myself and everyone in the race) that at least I crossed a finish line. How many people were on the sidelines, not even brave enough to attempt? :o) You may have been last in your age bracket, but at least you actually ran.

  2. As for sidelines, it was raining, and there weren't many people ;) That's some continued pessimism, lol.

    You're right though, I did finish!

  3. Don't you dare! 1:03 is an awesome time! I'm so proud of you and you should be too.

    If it makes you feel any better once Rian ran a 10K in 46 minutes and it took me 1:11. I walked 3 times during the race and finished next to last in my age group. But whatever. It's not about racing other people!

  4. Yes "the race is long, and in the end, it is only with yourself." I have a hard time focusing on that though when I'm hauling to beat an 8 year old and an old woman with a fanny pack.

  5. I have been telling you ever since the race what a good time 63 minutes is! The average time in that race was really, really fast and the skill level was way over our heads. I mean, my 55:30 was also DEAD LAST in my age group as well. Think back to your runs like 6 measly weeks ago to that race a few days proud of how far you progressed in that short a time frame (!)...regardless of the fact that the other people in race happened to be better runners than you or I are