What a fiasco!

I was prepared for the race on Saturday. I ate the requisite pasta the night before. I did not indulge in more than two beers. I tried to keep my plans for Friday night down to a level less than crazy. I set my alarm for 638 am, which was actually horrible for a weekend! Ugh.

My alarm went off. I stumbled out of bed, cursing my running self and wishing I could be content to be a lazy person who didn't care about the race or getting into the lottery for the Bridge Run. But all complaining aside, I ate half an English muffin, made my personal iced cafe au lait concoction and set off. I still had to pick up my t-shirt and get signed up and figure out where everyone was and so I was out the door shortly after 7am. Well, I got to the area where I thought I was supposed to be and I was the only person in the parking lot. What? That seemed odd. I sensed something was off. I drove around a bit, but it was a festival with blocked off streets and I felt that I should stay put. Except I didn't see any other runners, no signs, no life at all! Did I have the starting point wrong? Should I be somewhere else? I was starting to panic. It's getting closer to 8:00. Was I going to pay the entry fee and miss the race? Miss my opportunity to get into the lottery? Most importantly, could I have actually slept in? What do I do? Panic easily gave way to tears of frustration. Why does that happen to me? Why can't I "freak out" and remain calm and focused? Instead, I just shut down all rationality and lose it.

I call Jason knowing full well that I am waking him up before 8am on a Saturday morning. He says hello? and I immediately start bawling and babbling about how I'm gonna be late and I must be lost and I'm so mad at myself and I feel so stupid and I don't know what to do. Wah. Wah. The frustrated baby in me explodes into an emotional fury of helplessness.

I'm sure this is every guy's nightmare: being woken up at an unreasonable hour by a crying girl, totally confused as to what is really going on and then being expected to come up with some perfectly sound advice. Thankfully, Jason is always good for that. He logged on to the internet to see if maybe I was in the wrong location and then delivers the unexpected news Uh, Alex, the race is on Sunday.

As simple as that. I had the date wrong. I figured I was already awake and ready to run so I decided to drive out to Kensington like in the old days when I was training. I hadn't run 3 miles in about 3 months. Not even sure how long it's been but way before physical therapy, way before the tendonitis diagnosis. Part of the reason I wanted to run this race was to push myself a little bit further. I wanted to challenge myself and see if my hip could handle the slight increase in mileage. And so I drove out to Kensington and pulled off the 3 miles and felt a little bit better.

Conclusion: Yes, I still woke up before 7am on Sunday to run the real race. Everyone was there that morning. I ran the 3 miles in 30:38. I was thrilled with that time. I was also incredibly pleased to run 6 miles in one weekend and not feel any pain, discomfort or soreness in my hip. Looks like I am well on the way to a successful recovery!