I Must Be Crazy

A few months ago, actually back in November I think, a friend of mine from home posted on my Facebook page asking if I wanted to do the Great Wall half marathon. I had heard of the race and had considered for a moment doing it, but up until I was asked publicly, I hadn't really given it any more thought. My friend, who lives in Japan, encouraged me, saying that if he could do it, so could I, so I talked someone else here in Dongguan into joining me and we both signed up. Needless to say, my friend in Japan had to back out because of military duties. Now my friend Jackie and I are running this thing in less than a month.

First off, I should admit that I don't consider myself a runner. I never really ran in high school or college, and it was only a mile or two at most when I did. At the end of my college years, when I thought I was young and agile, I ran the Cooper River Bridge run, a 10K in Charleston, SC, without training. I did it as a last minute fill in for someone I was supposed to be babysitting for so she could run, but she got sick so I took her place. I paid the price for that decision for days. My stomach had never been in such knots. I remember lying in a ball drinking Gatorade, of which I've never been a fan, and cursing that bridge.

After that, my running was sporadic. When I moved to Ireland, I often ran down the canal from my flat in Ranelagh to Portobello, or up and around St. Stephen's Green, then it was in Italy that I started being more diligent about running. I ran most mornings when I lived in Milan, that is, when it wasn't snowing. I participated in the Stramilano 10K alone that year, and I had a blast. A friend had asked if I wanted to run it, but then she moved home to the states before the race was to take place (I'm now recognizing a pattern of friends who ask me to run, then themsleves back out!!). I actually thought I'd only signed up for the 5K, but I remember finishing the race and looking at my bib, then being so proud of myself. I ran with a bunch of crazy Italians, alone, and finished feeling great. In America, we drink after races. In Italy, I kept that tradition alive and went to the nearest cart, grabbed two beers, and sat down in front of the Duomo observing others. No one else was drinking. I began chatting with a guy and I had him take a picture so I could better hold on to that memory. I love that picture...it's still on my phone; that guy and I became Facebook friends that day come to think of it.

After moving back to the states, I kept running small distances. I participated in the Cooper River Bridge run again, this time prepared, and enjoyed leisurely runs along the Battery when I could. I ran in my neighborhood in Hanahan a couple of times a week. It was never much, 4 miles at the most, when I was running just to run. It felt good though...it was something that allowed me to clear my head.

My chiropractor wasn't and isn't very happy with me, but I do enjoy running now and again. She's told me many times to quit. She's worried about my back and my knees, but I've been a bad patient and I've kept on. I try to be cognizant of my "issues" when I'm running though. I know my back can give me major problems (I have titanium rods down either side of my spine), but I am very conscious of how I place my feet to land, how I align my spine and hips.

I don't think I'm a runner and I don't plan to run marathons the rest of my life, but I'm living in China, and in less than a month there's this awesome race that takes place on the Great Wall, so I am doing it. I am terrified though.

Since November, I've been running more regularly and trying to keep up with a schedule for preparing for a half marathon. Actually, for the past several months, I've been ahead of my schedule. I only just recently had to start making gains...going a greater distance. Last Saturday, I ran my first 8 miles ever. I knew I had to do it, and apparently I was dreading it.

I woke up Saturday morning, and like most mornings, didn't open my eyes. I knew if I did I'd be awake, and I really wanted a little more sleep. A few hours later, by the time I did open my eyes, I felt sure that it must be at least 12 or 1. I knew I had slept the whole morning. I had been dreading getting up for the run, so that was ok with me. I looked at my phone to check the time; it was 8 am. Geez.

I got up and read a few blogs looking for what to eat before a long run. I settled on some oatmeal because what most of the blogs said was to not introduce anything new. I hate bananas, I didn't have a lot of other options here, so I made my oatmeal with some peanut butter and a few chocolate chips...hey, I was about to burn major calories...don't judge.

I ate breakfast and tried to drink several glasses of water. I needed to wait half an hour to run after eating, or so I'd read, so I went on the Great Wall Marathon website and re-read the info on the race...huge mistake. I got so nervous that I started to have an anxiety attack. I did a devotional and then tried to meditate to calm myself down. I couldn't clear my mind though. I was freaking out...honestly. Shaking almost...so scared. I knew I had to do this though; I had signed up. I'm not one to give up on myself, and if I set my mind to something, then I at least want to try.

Once I mustered up the courage, I got dressed, put some money and a granola bar in a ziplock bag, stuffed that bag between my breasts (when it comes to running, this is the only benefit of being slightly larger in the chest), and set out. I turned on my Sirius Radio and Map My Run, did a few last stretches, and went on my way.

I had decided I'd need to refuel to make the full 8 miles. I've never stopped, not even in the 10K races I've done. I always push through, but for this, I figured I needed to have a boost of energy. I have noticed that my energy has been depleted a lot during my 6 mile runs lately, so I didn't want that to happen to me for this 8 mile. I had mapped out in my head how I could run just under three miles, stop at a convenience store by my house, grab a Gatorade, and then keep moving. This I did. It's actually a benefit of running in a big city like Dongguan. I knew if I had some money with me, I could easily stop to grab a drink along the way. I'm pretty aware of my milage marks so I knew I'd pass several of these little stores even if I hadn't planned it out.

The first few miles were a little harder than they normally are. I think it was my nerves still. My feet just didn't want to pick up off the ground. It could also be the fact that last Saturday was very humid and highly polluted. Training for a marathon, or even a half for that matter, in China, is probably a little more difficult than training in other cleaner air cities. Despite these difficulties though, I made it to the convenience store and got a Gatorade. I drank a few sips and then carried the bottle with me so I could drink a little more at my next stop, if I needed. I also couldn't stand the thought of wasting a whole bottle for just a few sips...I think I'm my mother's daughter.

I ran only one more mile and had to stop. I was dying. I was dizzy. I tried walking a little ways (timer off and not adding this to my mileage), but I was feeling quite strange...I'll still blame that on nerves. I drank more Gatorade and then after a little rest (I even let myself sit down a few minutes), I got back up. You see, I'd been praying the whole time...the whole first 4 miles, I prayed. I asked God to give me the energy...to protect my back, to strengthen my knees. I wanted to give up. I wanted to just call it all quits right there, but I couldn't do that, and I knew He'd carry me if I kept putting forth the effort.

I started back on my run, working now towards mile 5. I threw the Gatorade bottle away with a few sips left just because I was tired of carrying it. I honestly think I drank too much Gatorade because I began to feel sick. I worried about vomitting up that Gatorade all over the street. Somehow I managed to keep it down. I already get stared at enough when running...the last thing I needed was to draw more attention to myself by way of getting sick.

I made it to the end of the street where I needed to turn around and come back...this is completely out of expat land by the way. I was in China for sure. People sit on the street selling their fruits, doing their laundry, eating their noodles, and staring at me, a busty blonde girl, sweating profusely, trying to run 8 miles.  It's quite a site.

At the intersection, I ran across the street and headed back towards home. I knew I'd need to detour towards my other route now to get the mileage I needed. I ran back, turned left to head towards the mountain and park with the Red Lantern (Qi Feng Park for those that know Dongguan), and made it to the corner where our little expat community again begins. This was almost mile 7. I had to stop. I turned off the mileage, walked to a store to grab a water, breathed, stretched, walked back to the corner, and set off on my last mile and a half or so. The "finish line" was nearly in sight now. The seven mile announcement came through my speakers and I almost threw my hands up in celebratory expression. I was so tired. I was so shaky, but I was almost there. I was moving slowly, but I was going to make it.

I ran that last mile and I can't tell you how extremely proud I was of myself. It was like the air was purer all of a sudden, like the temperature had cooled. Actually, I was quite cold and had had lots of chills during that run because I was soaked with sweat, even in my quick dry clothes. It was magical though. When I finished, I felt like I could have gone even further. I had been praying all 8 miles. It had taken me longer than I wanted, but honestly, I couldn't care less about the time. I FINISHED. I RAN 8 MILES.

When I got home, I showered and rested a few minutes after hydrating with another Gatorade and more water. I went for a massage and the girl killed my legs, but boy they needed it. My calves were on fire when her fingers were digging in them, but they felt really great after. I ate a 6 ounce filet for dinner that night and I felt as good as new on Sunday morning...like I could go for a run!

I was talking with my brother this week and he asked what was the elevation here in Dongguan. He was trying to calculate the added difficulty with the pollution and elevation combined. I wasn't sure honestly, so I Googled it and found that it's 10 meters, about 32 feet, above sea level. That's really not that bad. It made me curious about Beijing though and it said most of the city there lies 20-60 meters above sea level. That makes it a little more tricky. My brother said, "If you can run a 1/2 marathon through smog {and other elements}, you could probably run a 1 and 1/2 marathon in the states." Ha. He might be right.

I honestly think I might be crazy. I might die doing this thing in Beijing, but I'm so proud of myself. I let my nerves get the best of me last weekend, and I'm sure the morning of the race on May 16th I'll do the same, but if I can have the confidence that the Lord will be with me the whole time, then whether it takes me 3 hours or 3 days, I'll be happy to finish. Now, I'm prepping myself for 9 miles this weekend. Wish me luck!