At Least I Didn't Poop in My Shorts
- rickdmoore
- 4 days ago
- 4 min read
That horrendously unthinkable mishap seemed about the only thing that didn't go wrong with this year's Dam to Des Moines Half Marathon last Saturday. And that disaster was averted solely due to a quick porta potty stop just before boarding a bus for the 20-minute ride to the start of this race.
There's a lot to unpack about a race that for me was better titled, "Damned to Des Moines." First, a little background of this race itself.
My Favorite Mistake
Personally referred to as "My Favorite Mistake," the race started at scenic Saylorville Dam, about 11 miles north of Des Moines. Since there's nowhere to go from the top of the dam but down, runners spent the first couple miles winding our way down a curvy road before spilling out on flat ground, flanked by fields of corn and whatever else as we journey south to the big city. Awaiting us at the halfway point is a small, but intimidating hill that leads us over a freeway and into a lovely neighborhood noted for older homes and friendly crowds that cheer us on before depositing us down a bicycle path along the Des Moines River, guiding us towards downtown and the finish line.
With apologies to Sheryl Crow (please tell me you know who she is!), the reason I call this one "My Favorite Mistake" is because it's my fifth race and third half marathon in twelve weeks.
So why is that I was one of several thousand runners lined up at this "damn" race?
No excuse other than I simply cannot say "no" to participating in a well-organized local event with talented runners and great swag.
What Went Wrong?
Truth is, I was nervous going into this one - knowing I pushed myself a bit too much since my previous race. But price of my sins proved more than simply "tired legs." Let me count the ways this one went off the rails.
Doggone it! Knowing I needed a good night's sleep, unintended events that night instead had me awake at least once every hour. (Let's award a dachshund-sized portion of the blame to a rather restless dog.)
Stuck in Low Gear. The first warning light flashed at Mile 3. When I attempted to nudge my pace up a tad, my legs responded with a polite but firm, "Thanks, but no thanks." Same request two miles later with the same response. Two miles later, my legs weren't even polite in their refusal to kick it up another gear. They simply put me "on hold," maintaining that slower pace until a certain troublemaker decided to add to my woes.
"Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!" At Mile 10 I felt a dreaded pain begin to build on the outside of my left knee, meaning I'd now aggravated my IT band. Which I had worked diligently to prevent. Exercises to strengthen my hips in the previous weeks. Adjusting my stride during downhill portions of the race. All proved insufficient. Less than a mile later, that knee grew painful enough that I needed to stop for a few seconds, hoping that be sufficient. No such luck as that same pain required several more stops before I crossed that finish line.
Time Is Not on My Side. As if all this were not enough, I made the mistake of accidently pausing my Garmin watch during one of those stops and not noticing it until I had less than a mile remaining in the race. That meant I did not know my exact time until final results were sent much later that day.
How Did I Do?
I crossed the finish line in 1:39:15. A time that some of you would consider good and others would consider not good. For me, it was over 7 minutes slower than my time the previous year - and put me in 7th in the age group that I had won the previous year. If there is a consolation in this, it's that my time from last year would have had me barely 3rd in my age group - as two elite runners completed the race in half marathon times that I can only imagine in my dreams.)
What Comes Next?
While all of that left notably unpleasant taste in my mouth, I didn't allow any of that to diminish celebrating an excellent race ran by a friend who had joined me for the event. Nor did it deter me from using that free beer tab on the bottom of my bib to share a tasty local brew with him.
But even as I sipped that delightful wheat ale, my mind began processing what had happened and more importantly, how to prevent it from occurring again. By the time I returned home, I had a clear strategy formulated.
Take A Break. Having already scheduled five days off following this race, an upcoming vacation will also allow my body more time for a good recovery before preparing for two races in late July.
Strike Up the IT Band. Clearly what I've been doing is not addressing this problem. Fortunately, I've time to work with my running coach and physical therapist to correct it. Besides, a good friend of mine talked with me after the race about the sheer excitement of running the Boston Marathon. I have to be able to run a half marathon before I complete in the main event!
Listen Instead of Looking. I know I violated one of my cardinal rules by spending more time looking at paces on my Garmin instead of listening to my body. Lesson learned! Going forward, I shall endeavor to keep my easy runs truly "easy runs."
All of us have what we consider "bad" races and all of us have ways of dealing with them. I've shared mine and am curious about yours. Any similar experiences that you'd like to share? Or guidance to offer? You can do so in the comments below or on Facebook.
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