the oz half. i should change my name.

Based on history and races where I want to do really well, I should really change my name. To Crappy Weather Runner. Seriously. The weather was awful on Saturday morning. Before I ramble on, I will say I did PR at the Oz Half. But not by much, not by enough. I felt like I worked harder and trained for a faster race than what I pulled off on Saturday.

Results:
Official Time: 1:52:48
Garmin Time: 1:52:09 (i had to make a pit stop and forgot to take my watch off of auto pause before the race, but now i know how long it takes me to pee during a race... in a porta-potty covered in explosive diarrhea. not mine mind you.)
7/107 AG
34/516 F
132/836 OA

The thing is that I can make a lot of excuses, the 25 mph+ winds and 26 degree wind chill. Lack of sleep. Stress. Not enough long runs. What have you. But I'm not going to make excuses, as badly as I want to. The truth is, I thought I could do it and I couldn't. I just didn't have it in me on Saturday. I loved the temps Saturday morning, but the wind, while it's something I was prepared for, sucked the life out of me by mile 7. At mile 5 I started having stomach issues for the first time EVER while running. I never have stomach problems, but Saturday oh my. I did. It just wasn't my day. And that's okay, I had a feeling deep down that it wouldn't be my day. It happens. It's called racing. You can't always do what you planned.

I'll share a lot more about the race in my next post. For now I'll just say I finished out the race feeling numb, from my arms and hands to my insides. I was so cold and so out of it after I finished that I couldn't stop shivering for a good hour, and that was after putting on a dry shirt and some sweats. It was awful. I couldn't think straight, during or right after the race. In fact, I still feel cold! And I'm pretty sure I made an incoherent call to the Edder after to prove to myself I wouldn't die. WHAT? I am nothing less than dramatic, people.


So. It wasn't my day, the race didn't go as planned. But. Per usual, I'm going to scrape myself up off the ground (i'm feeling better already in fact), pick myself up and move on to plan B. The Wichita Half marathon. I haven't done it in years, and my fire has been fueled to go and give it a what's what in two weeks. But now I'm doubting my training, doubting my stamina and doubting my ability to run faster. Period. I won't lie, it's rough. I chose to do half marathons this spring thinking it would help me get faster when I return to do a full, and here it is five months after my last half mari PR and it didn't seem to work. Again, I thought I trained harder than what I pulled off. My training didn't work. At least this time. It's a bit depressing.

I'm going to give myself a few days to wallow and then it's back at it. Because if there is one thing I can't do, it's accept defeat in running. Clearly it's a problem with me. Maybe this is a sign I should just stop beating my head against the brick running wall? Nah. The Wichita Half it is my friends. Wish me luck.