Damn the Dam to Dam

I'm sure you all have been anxiously awaiting for me to post about my Dam to Dam run. In case some of you missed it when I stated it earlier... that's 12.4 miles of me putting one cankle in front of the other in order to make it to the finish line.

1. The Training Period: (4 months)
I began training in February. My first run was on the treadmill and I attempted 1 mile. Not only did I stop halfway through but I also threw up before I was finished. Pathetic. I quickly regretted ever uttering the words "I am going to run the Dam to Dam" to my boyfriend.
Slowly, and all the meaning of the word slowly, I ran 1 full mile later that week. The next week I ran 2 miles. Then 3. Then 3.5. Then 4. I didn't run more than 4 until I was 12 weeks out of the race day. Soon enough the day had come and I had to run 5... which to my surprise went fantastic and I ran 6 miles that night. The next week I ran 6 again. Failed on my first attempt to run 7 but the next week ran 9 miles. And ultimately ran 10.5 miles prior to my race.

2. Race Day
Allison texted me the day before the race and said "looks like it's going to thunderstorm the entire time during our run." I chose to ignore the statement. Later, Allison and I glued our eyes to the news station (Partially praying a tornado would be in the forecast so far in advance that the race would have to be cancelled. Partially praying it would be nice sunny, cool weather so our hard work wouldn't go to waste) 8pm Friday night we said goodnight, set the alarm for 4:30am, and went to sleep.

4:30am--Rise and Shine. It's storming, dark, and muggy outside. Allison and I pack a breakfast consisting of banana's, toast, peanut butter, and orange juice.
5:15am--Drove downtown. Parked illegally because it was too early to care. Stood in line for a shuttle bus from downtown all the way to Saylorville. Walked a mile in the pouring, freezing, windy rain in order to get the starting line.
6:45am--Chugged some water. Looked around at all the athletic freaks we passed who were standing at the front of the starting line (which means they run roughly... or smoothly a 5 minute mile pace.)
6:55am--Allison and I agree we should use the bathroom first. We hurried but refused to run, of course. This choice caused us to start the face at quite literally the end of the line. The walkers. 18 minute mile pacer's. It doesn't really make a difference other than slightly embarrassing because anyone on the sidelines would be convinced that we walked half of the race.
7:05am--Officially crossed the... starting line. Allison and I were weaving through people twice our size... and in poncho's, in order to catch up with the super fast 10 minute mile pacers. It made us feel super speedy!

The first few miles were a breeze. Aside from the fact our shoes, socks, clothes, and ipod were already drenched from the rain... Mile 7 had a big hill. The rain had finally stopped at this point but due to our shoes and socks being soaked earlier I could feel the blisters emerging on my feet with each stride. Mile 8... sucked. Mile 9... I could have cried I was so miserable. I swear if I would've looked down at my shoes they would have blood oozing out of them... that's seriously how bad my feet hurt at this point. Mile 10... Allison and I agreed we both could start crying at any time. We were both miserable. Pain. So much pain. We were surrounded by walkers but we continued to run... jog... trot... whatever you wanna call it. I truly can't articulate the pain. Not to mention there were supposed to be live bands and music playing throughout the course but due to the rain the entertainment was limited to Allison and I whining about our stomach, feet, knees, hips, contacts, hair, hands, toes, elbows, back, and of course... cankles.

Mile 11... titled "the wall of sound" (apparently there was supposed to be live music and people elbow to elbow down the entire last mile. Umm no... I heard crickets. Or I would have if I wasn't already hearing voices from the agony of the last mile. Then I heard "Just up the hill and around the corner and the finish line is in clear sight" I turned to Allison and said "Excuse me, but did that guy just say up the hill...?" Allison, who appeared as if the devil was about to jump out of her, nodded her head. The last mile probably took us a good 15 minutes but we did. not. stop! Up the hill and around the corner we went. To the right we could see my mom standing there with her camera. My dad was standing and waving at us.

I had no energy. No wave. No smile. One Nod. 3 blocks to go and... 

DONE! "I'm never running again" I screamed... or that could have been in my head. I'm not sure.

3. Post Race
My mom had to drive my car home because my feet wouldn't respond. My cankles were more swollen than usual. My feet looked like dead persons feet. My hands were so swollen my ring was cutting my finger. I'm shocked I survived.

One shower, lots of food, and 3 gadoraid's later I was on my way to Kansas City to help my boyfriend celebrate his 26th birthday... toga style! It was great fun... even though I ran 12.4 miles, drove 3 hours, learned to make a toga, and danced all night long. I survived. With a smile on my face! It was great fun!

Pictured: Brad, me, Tiffany (Brad's sister), and Matt (Brad's brother)

The Toga Party was a success! 

Sunday I slept pretty much all day. But ultimately I have no regrets. I'm almost tempted to try another half marathon since it rained at the Dam to Dam... almost. Nah, nevermind. It was the voices again.