Go Team!

Injured my leg yesterday at the Pacific Shoreline Half-Marathon. I'm at mile six, cruising along at pace, when the very tendon I praised in earlier posts for healing so well turned on me. Sharp inflammation. I slow. More pain. I walk. I walk for two miles. More pain. I walk slowly. Young and old — running and walking — pass me.

By mile nine I'm limping. If there were a First Aid tent in sight, I think I would've quit. I've fallen so far back, I'm surrounded by marathoners. (They're on mile 16.) I walk as far to the slow side of the course as I can. Still, some runners speed past and cut sharply back in front of me — like drivers zipping around slower motorists out of spite. Their actions stand in contrast to other marathoners who cheer me on as they pass.

My sweat dries and I start to chill. Now I'm cold and hobbling. The sun is out, but still misty behind the clouds. At mile 12 I spot the Huntington Beach Pier and speed limp. I finally cross the finish line in 3 hours and 23 minutes. (That would be a great marathon time.)

I head for the First Aid tent. Grabbing an ice pack, I sit on the curb and numb my tendon and knee. A few members from my Team in Training chapter stop by. They ask if I can make it to the parking lot shuttle. I can and do. Eventually, I arrive home to ice and the Super Bowl and an assignment that had to be turned in Sunday night.

During the run — and subsequent long walk — I was glad to be wearing my purple TNT jersey. There were lots of "Go Team!" from runners and spectators. I had the sense of never feeling alone. I was indeed part of a team. That's something I'll always remember about the Pacific Shoreline Half-Marathon.