I was excited to participate in my first out of Texas event and get one state out of the way toward my 50 state goal. Dan and Jerry were so kind to drive us 3 hours (yes, that's right) each way so I could run.
Honestly, with the travel and everything I felt a bit "off". I didn't get to hydrate like I normally do...well 3 hours in the car...you get the idea. The temperatures were supposed to be much cooler than Texas, which would be divine. They promised water and Accelerade at the support stations. I trusted them. I made the judgment call to leave my fuel belt behind. Even in established, well-organized races I wear my fuel belt so I can hydrate when I need to. For some reason in York, Maine, at an inaugural race, I decided to throw caution to the wind.
Here I am at the start line. This was a women's only event--Girl Power and all. They did allow one lucky guy to run too. The race started at 9:00am. Since we had to drive so far, this was a good thing. It did not bode well for the temperatures though.
This is when my mind started to go. My mental game was toast.
Running along the coast was beautiful. Did I mention though that my mind was going? I really wanted to call it quits and play on the beach. Oh, and I don't think I was even to mile 4 yet. It was going to be a LONG, painful day.
Um...have I mentioned the hills yet? No? Well. On the race website they said something to the effect of "the course is relatively flat with a measure of gently rolling hills."
I would like to talk to the person that wrote that sentence.
Relative to what? Mt. Everest? Granted, none of the hills were too terribly steep, but they never stopped. It was one "gentle rolling hill" after another.
At each aid station I kept hoping for the promised Accelerade. They only had water. It also turned out to be unseasonably warm. Even hot. I was convinced the race fairies were out to get me. They did hand out samples of Cliff Shot Blocks. Now, under normal circumstances I would not try anything new on race day, certainly not during the event. These were not normal circumstances. The flavor was Margarita (with salt) and I greedily gobbled them up.
At that point I would have taken a pitcher of margaritas too.
I was quite grumpy and just wanted the stinkin' race to be over. Now. I told Scott later that if I was a cursin' person I would have been cursin' up a storm. I did keep muttering to myself "Where in the ---- is the finish line!?!" Yes, the race brought out the best in me didn't it?
I eventually finished. No, it was NOT a PR. It was done though. I got my medal.
Scott said A. was the dog charmer during the race. She met all the dogs and their owners.
Soon it was time to start the 3 hour return trip. Yikes!
While my memories might still be just this side of bitter, I am glad to have my first out of state race in my rear view mirror. Only 48 more to go.