Race Report: Madison Half Marathon

I went into this holiday and race weekend ready to run. I was feeling pretty well rested, no major injuries or such to worry about, well hydrated, and prepared. I was feeling that a 2hr half marathon was a totally attainable goal.

I woke up Saturday morning not feeling so good. Ears were plugged and hurty, my throat was scratchy, and my nose was drippy. I headed up to the Farmer's Market for a few hours to help out my favorite farmer, Trisha at Luna Circle. Spent 2 or so hours talking tomatoes and peppers and stuff and then headed home. After showering I was feeling a little better and didn't really give my morning a second thought as I went to packet pick up.

One of our coworkers was in town for the weekend for a graduation picnic so we walked over there to say hi and enjoy the beautiful afternoon. About the time we get there I started to realize that the way I felt earlier in the day wasn't really a fluke. I was fairly certain that I was getting sick, and fast. We cut our socializing way short and headed home. The running buddy was going to head home pick up his race day essentials (also known as his bike and camera to follow me on the course and cheer me on) and come back so we could do dinner and call it a night.

By the time he got back I was curled up in sweat pants in tears desperately drinking tea. I was miserable. Swallowing was like painful fire-y death. My head was throbbing and my nose had officially become a faucet. I was frrantically testing some of my running friends looking for their words of wisdom. Convinced that food was going to be the magic cure all we cold medicined me up and headed across the street for some comfort food. I did actually feel a little better and wasn't quite ready to call the run off yet. Maybe with a good night's sleep I would feel up to it in the morning...

5am the alarm goes off. With all the times I got up to blow my nose, cough, take more cold medicine, try to choke down some water, and so on, I felt like I had gotten absolutely no sleep. None. I got up, bundled up in my sweatpants and hooded sweatshirt and went back to guzzling down tea hoping it was the miracle elixer that would get me through. Turns out it wasn't. But 5:30 I knew that I couldn't do it. I couldn't breath or swallow. My whole body hurt. As much as it frustrated me to throw the towel in without even trying I knew it was for the best.

I'm calling it a DNS (Did Not Start). I'm not sure if I am going with this because it makes me fell better than a DNF would, or if I feel like I don't even deserve a DNF because I didn't even attempt it.

I spent most of Sunday in bed and lounging around, and all of Monday feeling lousy as well. Here it is Tuesday. Back at the grind, still feeling awful. How in the world am I suppose to train and make sure I'm ready for KS when I can barely breath?!?