2:07:41

Is it strange that my time for the ARMY ten miler is eerily close to my birth date?
Is it stranger that I completed the Army Ten miler? I mean, after all, it was TEN miles. Ten miles of mostly jogging, mixed with some serious running and less than a 1/2 mile of non-consecutive walking. It was amazing. Amazing for so many reasons, but mostly for the reason that I FINISHED IT. I have a coin, a shirt and a certificate to prove it, and although 30,000 people trek to this event each year, I am still in a small group that can proudly claim " I was there".
ARMYTENMILER CLASS OF '11.

We arrive Saturday late afternoon. We head directly over to the D.C. Armory, where race packet pick up is being held and I marvel at all the refurbished row houses and the open air markets in this cute neighborhood. I also take notice that despite the Indian Summer we seem to be having, the leaves are starting to tint orange...red...yellow. The Armory is also the site of a health expo that coincides with the race.I hop out to get the packets while Derek finds a place to park. Seeing static displays are second nature to me,so I think it's really cool when I hear people get excited about the helicopter, stryker, soldiers. I also think it's really cool that I get to bypass the long lines to enter the expo by showing my military ID at the side door. Membership has it's privileges.

Packet pick-up is super organized, and each line I need to be in seems to be the fastest moving. I quietly hope it is a sign of how my running will be. I laugh at myself for having such ostentatious fantasies. Derek and I pick up our race shirts, then head over to the merchant booths to see if there's anything we can't live without. I find a few shirts with witty slogans ("in my dreams, I'm a Kenyan", " This seemed like a good idea 3 months ago", ) and I get my first real wave of nervousness.
As we drive through the city to our hotel, I try to navigate the area from memory. It's been several years since we explored here, and some things have changed, but I still know my way around. We pass the Watergate complex,and I make a joke about being deepthroat. Derek seems unimpressed, but I know he thinks it's funny.
We check in, get up to our room, only to realize OUR room is actually someone else's room, and thank God we didn't walk in on someone having a little late afternoon delight, or getting out of the shower, or picking their nose. Back down the oldest elevator in the free world, new room, up elevator, room is free of other people. We forgo a late reservation at the Italian place across the street for a walk a block over to Whole Foods to pick up dinner. I get brown rice, mac&cheese and a salad, and later lament " carbs... why did I load you?!?" I take a warm bath, center myself and head off to bed while Derek watches the Rangers game get delayed. In a few short hours, I will put my training to the test.

5am comes early, and I am not a morning person. Banana and almond butter for breakfast, followed by coconut water and really shitty coffee. I make a mental note to stop at Starbucks on the way to the metro, but immediately dismiss that thought in fear of throwing it up, or worse, having to poo in a port-o-potty. No thanks.
Running skirt? Check! Wrist sweat band? Check! Totally lame sunglasses? Check! I decide not to wear a long sleeve shirt, even though the morning is supposed to be chilly. I figure my fear of the metro, and nervous energy will keep me warm enough.
It actually ends up being surrounded by hundreds,thousands of runners that does the trick.
The metro is packed (and surprisingly clean and well-lit), standing room only. It takes about 15 minutes to get out of the Pentagon station once we arrive. The lines to the port-o-potties are so long, we fear missing our start time. We finally get to the starting area, and I realize I'm terribly thirsty. WHY DIDN'T I BRING WATER??? It's 20 more minutes before we start moving, and even then, it's a 1/2 mile walk to the starting line. I'm stretching, getting crazy loose and my nervous energy subsides into excitement. While I'm sure there are "elite" runners here, they are waaaaaaay up ahead of me, their start time already on the clock. Most people around me seem pretty normal. Except the one douche bag making fun of people for having water belts/GU/supplements on them. "It's only 10 miles" he says. Ok, cool guy... I'll see YOU at the finish line. I also regret Derek not having his water belt, my throat is so dry.
And we're off. To a slow and steady pace. We had trained on a 10/2 system of running 10 minutes, walking 2. We decide to run for 2 miles, then see how we feel. I feel like walking,and 2 minutes later we're heading towards mile three. We have already passed the Lincoln Memorial, Arlington Bridge, two water stations (amen) and are heading towards Watergate. I ask Derek if we can just go back to our hotel. He laughs at me. My lame sunglasses keep fogging up. I hate them. But it's bright, and squinting sucks.
The goal is to get to mile 5 before the 1:20 mark, because that's when they cut people off, shorten the course and you don't get to complete the full ten. We get their in plenty of time only to hear someone shout we have 2/10 of a mile to go (ummm... did they change the rule?!?! The course?!?! WTF?!?!). I break into a run. It probably wasn't fast, but it was much faster than my current pace AND my training pace. I was not about to get cut off now. I pushed past mile 6...

...then I drank the Gatorade. I knew not to gulp. On all the previous water stations, I swished and spit, taking just enough water in to hydrate and not cramp. But this time, my fatigue and thirst got the batter of me (it was SOOO hot!!). I didn't mean to do it, I had no control over my actions. And the next thing I knew, three cups of Gatorade were gone. It was time to walk. I begged Derek for a 1/2 mile to let the fluids... I don't know, disappear, maybe? Just time to not have them sloshing in my belly. I was sure, if I started running, that Gatorade was going to make a second appearance. He gave me 1/4 mile. That's all I needed. We got back to a comfortable (slow) pace, and watched as mile marker 7, then 8 went by. We joked and talked to other runners as we jogged up the ramp to the George Mason Memorial Bridge. We were almost done.
Then, we came into view of the wounded warriors. How do you quit (or slow down) when you see persons with one leg, no legs, running? How do you tell yourself, it's too hot, it's too hard, it's too far? You don't. Because these guys are still going. There was a moment, when one of these warriors with a running prosthetic had to stop and take a minute, and he was apologizing to his (two legged) team mates. And I wanted to say, " Do you know how amazing you are? You have one LESS needed limb for running, yet you're still doing it." That is my only regret of the day, that I didn't actually say it. Instead, I dug a little deeper, ran a little straighter, complained a little quieter. Became a little prouder. Not of myself, but of humanity. I ran the last three miles of this race, not stopping,no 10/2 training plan, because I knew I could.
Mile 9 marker goes by... just one more mile. Literally, this time. Derek starts to get giddy. He's cheering me, but I'm still focused on my pace. I'm hot, so hot, and sore already and a mile is still pretty far. I want the finish line, and water. We can see the Pentagon, the finish line balloons.I say out loud that I think I have pulled my uterus. Derek grabs my hand and I think to myself, "I actually did it". Hands clasped, arms up, we pass over the finish line. I think it's 2:30:and change because that's what the clock says. I forget that we started way after the time clock. I'm elated, exhausted, thirsty. We have to walk FOREVER through the chutes, passed piles of empty water bottles and discarded water pallets. I'm feeling woozy and I swear it's getting hotter. We walk passed shade and into blacktop parking lots. We get our coins, then, miraculously, water. I take two.
We start to make out way back to the metro. All I want is a juicy hamburger then a cupcake. I deserve it. My legs are so sore, and I have chaffing and aches in unusual places. WE hop a fence, then some concrete barriers and I'm amazed I can still command my lower half to function. I stop and stretch. I need to stop, but I'm afraid if I do stop, I won't get going again. I stretch some more.We see the masses heading down into the metro and I fear I will starve to death before we make it back to Foggy Bottom.
After a series of both fortunate, and unfortunate, events, we finally sit our sweaty, stiff selves into cushioned seats for a burger. We see people who recognize us from the 6:30am metro ride,they, too still have their race bibs on. They appear less sweaty, less taxed,more comfortable than I.
As we walk back to the hotel, people congratulate us. I want to shower, then sleep. But we have 45 minutes to be out of the hotel, and Derek has promised me a trip to Georgetown Cupcakes for my race award. I get the chocolate coconut,Derek gets the red velvet. We pick carrot cake to share later, and three more for the kids makes it an even 1/2 dozen.
As we make our way back towards the highway, we decide we would love to live here. And we start talking about "next year". Making plans to come back to D.C. before our 6months is up. Making plans for our next race,I tell myself 10 miles is the most I will ever need to run. By Monday, I will have contemplated training for a half marathon. By Tuesday, I will decide my recovery period is over and make plans for a 2.5 mile run Wednesday morning.

You don't have to be thin, or an athlete or even have two legs to run. You just have to do it. 2:07:41 says so.