irksome ike

If my regular readers are observant, they might be wondering why I didn't post a race report for the Lewis and Clark Half Marathon that I was registered to run on the 14th. The side bar list of my races completed has a nasty "DNS" next to it. So, here's the scoop...


Katie and I picked up our race packets the day before at the Ameristar Casino in St. Charles. We took the requisite Runner Dork pics. I discovered that my race bib was #2!!! HOW COOL IS THAT?!?! Well, as a HUGE Runner Dork, I was jumping up and down with glee with that bib number. No, I don't have a particular fondness for the #2. I play a game during longer and crowded races. It's the "Find the Lowest Bib Number Game." Oh' don't judge...you know you secretly do the same thing...or some other variation of some stupid game. We all do weird things to pass the time during a long run.

The next morning came early...very early...3:30 a.m. early. I awoke to the lovely sensation of a sore throat that felt like I was swallowing sand laced with shards of glass. I drove to Katie's place, where we switched cars and her parents drove us to the race. It was pouring rain when I left my house. It turned into a light drizzle at Katie's place. By the time we got to the exit for the race start, it was an all out scary storm. We kept trying to make light of the situation by saying how cool of a race story it was going to make...we ran in a tropical depression! Katie's dad kept telling us to fudge the story a little and call it Hurricane Ike, since technically it was Ike...just down-graded.

It took us a better part of an hour to get from the ramp to the parking lot. The race had already started. We had timing chips, so it didn't really matter that we were late. The parking attendants were standing knee deep in water. Katie's dad parked by a Johnny on the Spot. He opened the door to make a mad dash to the "spot" and the wind nearly took the door off. Katie got a text from a friend who was watching her fiance run the marathon. She reported that she saw a girl run by in waist deep water. I looked at Katie. She looked at me. I said, "Aw Katie, this is your call. I've done this before. I know this is your first half, and if you want to run, I'll run with you. It's your decision." She made the call and we decided that we would turn around and go home. I barely made it home. Several of the major interstates and highways were closed due to flooding. I had to take several detours and, once I made it to my town, considered abandoning my car and running home. It would have been safer. I had to get off the main road and leap frog from parking lot to street to parking lot to street in order to make it home without drowning my car.

By the time I got home, I was in full-fledged sicko mode. I slept for four hours on the couch. I woke up and got a text from my friend James who started the race and reported that they ended the race after 10 miles. He was on pace for a PR! He's a machine...who runs a PR in the middle of the remnants of a hurricane?!?! They had to reroute the course several times due to flooding. They lost radio communication and were not able to safely support the runners in case there was a medical emergency. We wouldn't have been able to finish the race anyway.

I was completely bummed that I didn't get to run it, after training for it all summer. However, my heart just broke for my friends that trained for it as first-timers and/or had trained for the full marathon. Katie ended up going home and running 13 miles anyway (see her "race report" here). Kyle sent me a text on his way home from the race, asking me if I knew of any half marathons coming up locally. He was already planning his comeback. Cheri (who weighs about 90 pounds...I'm surprised she didn't blow away) braved the storm and tried to power through to run the marathon, only to be cut short. James blasted through 10 miles, only to be forced to stop by race officials. Kristin and her husband were first timers and tearfully told me that "I already knew I could run 10 miles...I ran that last week! I just wanted to finish!" Dave, who stood up to his personal demons and chose sobriety, used his marathon training as part of his path to recovery. You all handled your disappointment with grace, humor, and integrity. Your perseverance through the training was amazing and I am so proud of you. I am honored and humbled to call you friends.