Steamboat Springs Marathon 2009

The plan: Volunteer at an aid station, shuttle friends, and drink margaritas.
Yes, my injuries are really cramping my style.
Thursday, I ran/walked with the Denver Trail Runners and we had a giant potluck afterward. Lots of fun. I ran because it's been weeks and I needed a status report - something more informative than walking around can tell me. The next day, I was fine. In fact, better than fine. I got the impression that maybe, just maybe I've been too cautious.

The marathon was on Sunday, this year, so I left on Saturday. I got there with less than an hour to go before they closed the packet-pick-up office. Then I grabbed dinner and a margarita, met some friends, and then headed for the Hot Springs. I stretched and massages my feet and legs while in the hottest pool.
There were LOTS of REALLY HOT BABES, but I didn't notice any of them. Really.
I slept in my usual place out of town. As usual, in the back of my comfy CR-V, with a DVD to watch. The margarita was enough for me, so I drank water instead of beer while I watched. The temps and weather were great, so I left the back window open so the fresh breeze could get in. Luxury in the back of my car.

It was 15 minutes from the shuttles that take us to the marathon start near Hahn Peak.
Wait. Uh, I'm not running this, right? RIGHT? Then why did I suit-up and get on the bus? Something wasn't going as planned. It was drizzling cold rain. Why would someone with a great excuse not to run (injuries) get on a bus to run when it's raining and 45 degrees?
So we got there with 50 minutes to stand around and get cold. I did some warm-up running and felt fantastic. PR? Don't even think it! Come-on! I wasn't supposed to even be there!
So the race starts two minutes early and most of us weren't expecting it. I took off at an easy 8-min pace. Everyone went out too fast, as usual.
I sped up, but I still wasn't pushing it.
The most dangerous injury was my Achilles, but I couldn't feel any problem there. Only my plantar faciitis could be felt, and it wasn't that bad. Yet.

My gut gurgled. In fact, at about mile 3, it felt like my stomach almost hurled, but that can happen from air. I tried to belch but all I managed was a fart. It got worse.
So did my plantar. By mile 9.5, my "race" was over, and my gut was developing Weapons of Mass Destruction. Honestly, I hoped the U.N. wouldn't find out, because it was getting serious. I didn't want them imposing sanctions against me. So I stopped for 5 minutes at a porta-potty. Oh, yeah, WMD#1. It didn't feel complete, but I wasn't going to stay in there all day, so I went onward.
At the 13.1 mile mark, there were tons of porta-potties at the half-marathon start, so I spent another 10+ minutes of quality time with WMD#2. I was hoping that was enough to keep Israel from sending a bombing mission after my reactor.

My plantar got much worse, so I walked some. That seemed to take too long, so I kept experimenting with different types of running limps. I didn't want to do the same old limp because I would end up with a bad muscular imbalance that could screw up my back. The strange thing is, I found out that if I led with my bad leg, it reversed the imbalance and still kept from aggravating my plantar. So it didn't care which leg was dominant, as long as I ran lop-sided. What a retarded injury. Whatever works.

By this time, things were bad... A fat, jiggly girl-butt passed me. That hurt more than my plantar! But Quasimodo limped right on by her again when she walked. Then she passed me again. And I passed her. But then WMD#3 took place just 2 miles from the finish, and fat, jiggly girl-butt ran away. Another 5 minutes or so in the porta-potty.

It was a really cool finish. Someone yelled, "Hurry up and beat the rain!" It started to rain again. I yelled back, "I don't care - I'm amphibious!" And the rain started coming down in little frozen pellets. But I was smiling ear-to-ear.

4:30 - exactly one hour longer than last year.

My plantar kept me from racing, so I wasn't at all tired. Both of my last two Steamboat finishes, I had been dizzy and shaky, but this time was just limpy.

I changed shirts and got another margarita. Yeah!
Then back to the hot springs - were there were even MORE really-hot-babes-that-I-didn't-notice-really.

Next week, I'm not even leaving town for the Estes Park Marathon. I'm TOTALLY skipping it!
You don't believe me, do you?