I鈥檓 a sinner, I鈥檒l admit it. I鈥檝e shown up for the half-marathon having violated the golden rules for success.
Well-rested? Nope, a week of insomnia.
Well-trained? Negative 鈥� a late-spring injury sidelined me from my usual workouts.
Familiar pre-race dinner? Uhm, no. Jungle curry at a new eatery.
Well-oiled playlist? Negative, threw in a bunch of suggestions from friends and decided to wing it.
Family at roadside for support? No. But my daughter did make me a sign that鈥檚 sitting at our house.
Pace band or Garmin to keep on track with each kilometer? No again.
I鈥檝e decided to throw myself on the mercy of the Goddesses and take what comes.
Just being at Langford City Park surrounded by 3,000 women, some in featherlight togas, others in hot-pink tutus, tiaras or superhero costumes is inspiring. These women are out to have fun.
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The problem, as I discover at the 1 Kilomtre marker, is that despite the fact I know I am not aiming, nor have I trained for a personal best, I鈥檓 competitive.
I pass the marker at 5:49 鈥� which would put me on track for a sub-two-hour finish. Something I鈥檝e never done but have come close to when I鈥檓 healthy.
What the hell. I allow myself delusional thoughts of maintaining that pace but deep inside I know I鈥檝e violated the ultimate golden rule 鈥� don鈥檛 go out too fast.
Kilometre 3 鈥� Feeling good.
Kilometre 5 鈥� I distract myself by doing the math in my head. Believe me, that鈥檚 a big distraction. I鈥檓 now closer to a 2:05 finish.
I detour to give the road marshal volunteer a high-five and do a goofy dance step to entertain some kids curbside then recall the advice of a hard-core running buddy who said she conserves her energy by wearing sunglasses so she鈥檚 not making the effort to squint.
I realize I鈥檓 doomed, leaking my energy all over the place like a faulty fire hydrant. She鈥檚 wise and fast. Me, not so much.
Kilometre 7 - I know from scoping the route ahead of time there鈥檚 a wicked hill from Latoria up Wishart. Sure enough, as a woman behind me realizes that鈥檚 where we鈥檙e heading, I hear 鈥淵ou gotta be kidding me.鈥�
Kilometre 8 鈥� Chugging up the hill, I pass a woman explaining to her friends, 鈥淚鈥檓 going to get my money鈥檚 worth and take my time.鈥� I鈥檇 laugh in appreciation but I鈥檓 grimacing.
Kilometre 10 鈥� not quite half way but the math is easy for my possible finish time.
Kilometre 13 鈥� I鈥檓 trying to ignore the pain in my right knee. I knew this was inevitable but convinced myself that it wasn鈥檛 possible. That鈥檚 the addled-logic of a runner. See delusions 鈥� Kilometre 1 鈥� I decide to stop looking at my watch.
It鈥檚 time to turn on my tunes, after enjoying the first half of the race and soaking up the atmosphere. It鈥檚 time to get down to business and dig deep past the pain.
They say you run the first third of the race with your heart, the second third with your legs and the last third with your head.
And boy do I need those tunes in my head. I鈥檝e included songs that hold meaning for me (Rock-a-Hula Baby by Elvis Presley for the Wild Women), or have the perfect beats-per-minute (Blister in the Sun by Guster) or make me smile (Tequila by the Champs).
But I鈥檝e abandoned my usual meticulously prepared order of songs, so I punch shuffle and dig in.
The second tune Papa Loves Mambo starts to work the magic. This is for my mom and dad,听 and the thought of them on the dance floor when the mambo, fox trot and rumba ruled.
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Kilometre 14 鈥� I am coming up behind two ladies in tutus and realize they are running with wine glasses in their hands. I want to join their running clinic.
Kilometre 17 鈥撎� I need to think positive and the perfect song shuffles to the surface: Marianne Baker鈥檚 What You See is What You Get. I included this song for my sister who schooled me long ago about the power of a postive attitude and visualization.
The lyrics stream into my ears.
And if I change my mind, I change my state
If I change today, I change my fate
So who'm I gonna blame when I'm down and jaded?
Who'm I gonna blame when I'm feeling wasted?
Who'm I gonna blame when my hope is faded?
This is the life that I created
What you see is what you get
OK - I get it. I visualize finishing. Only that 鈥� finishing. I鈥檓 not going for a personal best or even an average time. I'm not finishing injury free, but I am upright.
I cross the finish line, to the cheers of people lining the finisher's chute and with a grin on my face, slightly gritty with dried sweat. Among the 670 half-marathoners registered, I'm solidly in the middle of the pack.
It鈥檚 my 11th half marathon and I鈥檓 back to where I started 鈥� my 2:11 time is only slightly faster, as far as I can recall, as my first Oak Bay half.
After six years of distance running, my feet look like mashed potatoes and my post-race pedicures are always purple to cover my black toe nails.
Why do it?
Looking at the Goddess faces at the finish line, I know why. Pride in achievement, whether it鈥檚 successfully finishing a 5-K walk, 10K run with gal pals or a distance that seems only imaginable to many.
I see a girl about the same age as my daughter with her mom. Both are adorned for the race. Both are beaming.
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It was Brooklyn鈥檚 first 5K and I think of my own daughter and know that I have a new goal for next year.
A mother-and-daughter walk/run 鈥� a junior Goddess and one that has learned a few things up on the hill.
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