Weston Half Marathon - AKA The Run of Death

I should have known better that after coming back from the blinding cold of England to the warm perfection on South Florida I would get sick...but with my normal voracity, I though I was invincible, until I fell victim to the full, just in time for my Half Marathon...AKA...The Run of Death!

Now doing a 5K feeling a little stuffy, but doing a Half Marathon (13.1 grueling miles) with a full blown flu with nauseous, fever, dizziness the works is beyond a lot worse.

From the time I got home Friday night until the time I woke up for the race Sunday morning, I left my bed for food and bathroom...nothing more. Saturday night I felt so horrible that I spent have the night curled up on the bathroom flood debating if I was going to even live to see the morning.

When my alarm finally went off Sunday I wanted to die, but I dragged my sorry ass outta bed and to the race. I down a few more then the suggested daily intake of some Tylenol cold and flu (the good stuff from behind the counter, not that cheap imitation stuff they try to pawn off on you from shelf), told myself it was only 2 hours....then I could go back to bed and die. Plus, I didn't die last night so I was good right...WRONG!

I meet up with my friend at the race & I know I will go faster then her (if only by a little), so if all else fails she will see me dead on the road and be able to alert my loved ones.

The race starts and the meds have kicked in by this time so I am actually off to a good start. 8:39 min miles...not to shabby I tell myself, I am not dying after all...I can do this right...but 8:39 min miles turns into 9:36 min miles and by mile 8 I have convinced myself that gods themselves are going to come down off Olympus and mock me as I fall dehydrated and dry-heaving to the ground to be trampled under the feet of real runners and walkers who are now passing me as I jog pathetically along at 10:36 min miles.

How much worse can it get I tell myself. The sun is beating down on my deprecated body and I struggle with each breath as the dry heat sucks the air from me. Sure death is standing just up ahead ready to cut my down with his scythe, I struggle on.

**After the race, I find out that the conditions were some of the worse for a race and the humidity etc had taken many races down**

Convinced I have passed the point of no return into delirium I begin to notice others around me. We pass a Firehouse and a very fit couple turn off the course and run up to the station flagging down one of the firefighters. I see more than normal police on bikes riding by and many times with people on the back of them. Convinced I am hallucinating I lean again a pole trying to get the world to stop spinning. I know my body just wants to rest, but having just passed mile 11, how can I give up now.

A police officer scares me half to death and awakes me from what I believe may have been me falling into death asks me if I am OK. Sucking it up, I tell him I was just catching my breath and I push myself back up right...as I seemed to have slid down the pole slightly and set off again...at what I have decided we will call a fast walk....2 more miles until I can collapse.

Just 2 more miles...and dear god where they the longest 2 miles of my running life!

Mile 12 - 11:43 min and Mile 13 - 12:13 min

If it hadn't been for this guy running along next to me, I may have just crawled to the finish line. But he ran up next to me and ran with me for the last 1.5 miles...well more like speed walked, but at this point in time, I am not going to pick and choose what I call it. In my mind at that moment I was just pleased to be moving.

Crossing that finish line was the biggest accomplishment ever. I think I had sweat out every last bit of flu. I drank 4 bottles of water and pretty sure I pushed a little kid out of the way to get more.

That was truly The Run of Death! But I overcome it and defeated it! :) Take that B!Tche$!!!