The Broad Running Broad

There’s no other way to say it: yesterday’s race was one of my crappiest to date.

Okay, it was the third-crappiest, after the Indy Monumental Marathon in 2021 and Canaan Valley Half in 2022. But crappy nonetheless, thanks to GI distress.

It all started the day before. I went to the pool and overestimated how much time I could spend outside in 80-something degrees. Thanks to all that Irish and German ancestry I’m pretty white. Not white white where I won’t season the chicken, but white enough where I really shouldn’t stay outside for almost four hours during the heat of the day because I want tan lines. Which I did. The tan lines look awesome, but that heat migraine I gave myself Saturday night was horrible.

It turns out going to bed early and trying to sleep it off didn’t work. So I woke up Sunday morning dragging tail and feeling like death. The good news is that my allergy pill and generic acetaminophen eliminated the headache. This was around 7. The race started at 8. I thought I was fine.

But then came the GI distress. Runners know what this is and non-runners …. I’m trying to think of a way to put this that’s funny but not gross for the sake of being gross. Let’s just say GI distress is comparable to eating your body weight in something that doesn’t agree with you, and not even Pepto-Bismol being enough to save you. That coupled with getting out of my place later than I wanted is a terrible way to go into a race.

The recap

I tried knights and dames. One of the truths of racing is that some days are yours, and some days are not. The 10k yesterday was not mine.

I started out okay – not strong, but I thought once I got moving the cramping and distress might subside. Well, Mile 1’s uphill on Town or Rich Street determined that was a lie. I had to take more walk breaks than I planned or wanted to. My stomach was hard and bloated, with the pressure turning to pain. It was a shame that I was having a terrible time, since the morning itself was beautiful and the Columbus 10k is one of my favorite courses. I wanted to enjoy myself, but it just wasn’t going to happen.

I wanted to finish in between 1:00 – 1:05. My final time was 1:10:38. I kept my dignity intact when I crossed the finish line, and was okay to walk around the celebration village and get my cookie. Maybe I would be okay and whatever happened just needed to subside on its own.

Nope.

As I was walking back to my car I had a sudden painful wave of nausea. I’m still surprised the parking garage didn’t become my personal ground zero. The pain was too much and I wound up pulling into the conservatory on the way home. I’ll …. well, I think you all can guess what happened on that conservatory stop. The most I’ll say is that I felt better after than I did during the race.

But in spite of my crappy race, once I got home and got my medal out, I realized there was a meaning behind it all.

The 2023 race was the last of the medal series that started in 2020. For each year – 2020, 2021, 2022 and 2023 – the runners would get a medal that would connect to form a larger piece in the shape of Ohio, with the medallion in the center to mark Columbus. Back when the medal series was announced, all was normal and exciting.

Then 2020 happened. The race went virtual. Truth be told, I hate virtual races. I was also dealing with professional struggles alongside the “new normal” crap that we all had to pretend was fine. So my heart and mind wasn’t with the 10k that year.

2021 happened in September instead of June. I had just broken up with my ex and got back to work after being unemployed for ten months. I was barely dipping my toe back into running and just glad to be doing an in-person race, even if I lost a lot of my fitness. I figured I would come back better in 2022.

We all know how 2022 went. I did the race, but grieving really knocked me off my training. Meaning I didn’t give a damn about running, I wasn’t running much and it showed. It took me a while to get back into it.

And now, for my great finale in 2023, I was run-walk-shuffling, hoping that I wouldn’t become a viral meme if my body decided to betray me and my pride.

It’s safe to say in between the-dark-ages-we-can’t-name, depression, grieving and GI distress, the medal series races have been a real shit show.

And yet, the whole four years couldn’t have been a better metaphor in running and life. Most of it has been pretty terrible. But, my medals in their display are beautiful.

So knights and dames, here’s the great lesson from the 2023 Columbus 10k, the grand finale. Sometimes you do things that you don’t feel like doing, or when you’re struggling, or simply trying not to embarrass yourself in public, because you recognize the end result is ultimately worth it. I couldn’t have imagined the race going as it did, although I’m still glad I did it.

I’d even argue it’s worth crapping your shorts in front of COSI if you got to hang one of those bad boys up.

I hope you all can find humor in my chosen suffering and madness. I also hope wherever you are in the world, you can feel joy and contentment.

Yours in running and life,

Allison