It’s the kind of disappointment that physically consumes you. The one where your shoulders slump and your eye gaze turns downward due to the inner shame. It is the kind of disappointment in which you question whether you lack the mental or physical strength to accomplish a goal. The Hippie Chick was supposed to be my sub-2 half-marathon. It was supposed to be a measurement of all the hard work I put into a goal you desire so bad and can only achieve through sweat, tears, and sacrifice. Maybe I didn’t do enough of the three?
Then there is the intellectual negotiation. “It’s not meant to be. You gave it your best. Crossing the finish line is the most important.” I agree wholeheartedly with all of them. Problem is, it still stings.
Thirty-six seconds. That was the difference between my desired sub-2 and my actual time (2:00:35). My watch said I was on pace up until the finish line, but that wasn’t the case. According to the official results, my pace was 9:12, five seconds slower than the pace on my watch (9:07).
I can think of so many factors – the final three weeks leading up to the 1/2 were tough, I did not get decent sleep the night before (my toddler felt going to bed at midnight on that specific night was a good idea), the humidity in Portland sucked the oxygen out of my muscles, I shouldn’t have taken the last week leading to the 1/2 off, I should have pushed harder. Whatever the reasons, they all feel like excuses.
I know there will be another opportunity. I know I’m not defined by one race. I know it is attainable. I know I’ve come a long way. I know I’m stronger, and I know I won’t quit. And the craziest fact is: This has been my fastest half-marathon time since I started running!!
The day after the 1/2, my family and I did a Mother’s Day hike near Multnomah Falls and it was a breath of fresh air to my spirit and sore muscles. The weather was beautiful! Plus, we got to spend quality family time together, which surpasses any of my running goals.