Right after that, things start to head south for me.
Almost half a mile after the halfway point, I'm starting to get some numbness on the soles of my feet.
I start thinking already that perhaps doing most of my training on fire trails in the east bay may not have been the best preparation for this road race. My miles logged on pavement were insignificant.
A mile later, the each footfall suddenly starts to feel like I'm getting slapped on the soles of my bare feet with a wooden paddle. It's brutally intense.
I start to think also that maybe these shoes have way too many miles on them as I can feel the pavement on the soles of my feet with every footfall. And maybe that using the thinner socks for my longest run to date was not the brightest of ideas.
My mental game is falling apart from the pain.
By mile 15, I tell my dad to go ahead, that I have to decrease my pace.
I take water and painkillers at every aid station, and eventually end up chewing up the tablets in the hopes that I will get even minimally quicker absorption. The acrid taste in my mouth at least distracts me from the pain a little bit.
Over the next 7 miles, I have to decrease my pace at each rest period to the point where I'm jogging three minutes and walking three minutes by mile 22.5.
The water stations seem to be getting further and further apart.
I adjust my stride to ease my feet, and my ankles start to go. Then my knees go as well, and finally my hips start to stiffen up.
I want to quit so bad, I can't even tell you right now.
There were definitely three distinct times when I felt I could not go on and was ready to quit. When I literally felt like I wanted to just sit down by the side of the road and just wait til someone picked me up. I also knew that if I got off my feet there was no way I was getting back up.
The first was in GG Park, just before the exit to the park at Haight. There's a little shaded area the twisty path takes you through with really soft looking grass. There was a female rider there, a volunteer, on a blue SV650S. I don't remember exactly what she said, but she must have known I was about to quit. Something happened, the words I can't remember now gave me strength, and I was able to go on.
Only a few miles later, as I was approaching the turn to Mission Street, and once again I was ready to pack it in.
The SFPD diverted the route right in front of me to ease up on traffic, and one they moved the barriers and rounded the corner I suddenly found myself running on my own, with no one in front of me, down an abandoned Guerrero Street in a totally surreal moment. I was all alone. The thought occurred that I had been abandoned, that someone was playing a cruel joke, and that I would never reach the finish line. The nearest runner to me was perhaps 60 yards behind looking just as confused as me.
Running those blocks alone was probably one of the loneliest, but most peaceful experiences I have ever felt.
With the pain numbing my mind, I thought it would be real easy to fade away and disappear at this point. I was strangely ok with finishing right there, at the end of the next two blocks, before having to turn left again.
That left turn onto 16th Street, changed all that. I turned the corner to see a mass of people gathered around to cheer us on. I felt as if I had walked into my own private surprise party. As soon as I rounded that corner, it was like a solid wall of cheers, shouts, and support were trying to knock me off my feet and keep me going at the same time. Both sides of the street were strewn with people, with more coming out of doorways with every step. Every generation seemed to have come out to show their support, mothers with infants, children running alongside, elderly people, all smiling, cheering, waving little flags, running up with cut up bananas, bunches of grapes, and paper cups filled with water.
The Mission was a pleasure to run through. It seemed as though they were all out en force to show their support, but my legs just were not going to hold out much further. I made it through the Mission, and that energy got me to Potrero Hill. By this time, every step was pure agony.
