Guest blogger: Sister's race report

I convinced my sister to guest-blog her thoughts about her first half-marathon experience. Her race was my race. She wrote a first draft on the night we returned to Toronto from Cincinnati, but was reluctant to have me post it. I let her marinate on it overnight (after I teared up a little.... again) so she could edit it down. "It was fun to write -- cathartic -- it felt good to write down how I felt about it because I just wasn't satisfied with the race," she said. She agreed to let me post this... as long as I wrote my own race report as a companion piece -- companion being the key word here -- which I will publish later this week.


"It wasn't really how I imagined The Flying Pig Half Marathon - me, practically dragging my right leg through the finish line, almost 4 hours after the race started.

But I guess I shouldn't really be surprised. I mean, my right leg had been hurting since I maxed out at 14 km on April 13th. Since then, I've never been able to run more than 5K. And my physiotherapist was reluctant to even let me run it at all. But he showed me how to tape my ankle anyways, since I was pretty resigned to do it. All the signs were there that I wouldn't be able to run this race fully... but I thought I would try. Weak ankle or no weak ankle - I was going to at least start the race!!

I woke up at 4:45 on Sunday morning. As I stumbled around in the dark and tried to stay awake at the unearthly hour, I started to feel the nerves in my stomach. I had to tape my ankle but wasn't sure how I was going to do it. The night before, I had tried to tape my ankle the way my physiotherapist had showed me. Unfortunately, the tape was generic crap from Walgreens and I couldn't get it to stay put properly. As a result, I had to try my luck at getting my ankle wrapped at the medical tent -- something that would not happen until much later.

My cousin, my sister, and I started walking towards the start of the race around 6:15 am.. I looked around anxiously for the medical tent but there was no sign. I found a guy with a Flying Pig badge on his jacket. I asked him where the tent was and he said he wasn't sure but said we should check the front of the race. Turns out, no one really knew what they were talking about when it came to the medical tents. I realized that I wouldn't have time to get my ankle taped, even with the 15 minute delay in the start of the race due to a fire somewhere along the marathon route. We ended up in a pack of marathoners slated for a 3:30 finish - way too advanced for me but we couldn't get back any further.

Finally, the race started. My first ever half-marathon. My sister told me she wasn't going to leave me - I knew she wouldn't but I didn't push her away anymore either - and we started off really well. I was pretty much loving every minute of it while my wobbly right ankle was still holding up (fyi, I actually don't feel pain in my ankle - the instability in it causes the pain in my knee and calf as they try to compensate for the weakness). We crossed underneath the first bridge and I saw B. and G. standing up there cheering us on. Felt great. Ran across the first bridge into Covington, Kentucky. Felt even more awesome. Mile 1 passes... mile 2 passes... my endurance has definitely been built up since I started training. Soon we're heading back into Ohio and as we approach mile 3, and I know that my knee pain will start at any step now. I could feel it coming on - it starts behind my knee cap. And then my hamstring starts to feel super-tight and a string of pain runs down my calf. I had maxed out at mile 3, which has been my cap for the past two weeks. I started walking. I don't feel pain when I walk.

So we walked and looked for the medical tent that should've been located around mile 3. But I didn't see any - and so we went all the way to mile 5. We asked and waited for a medical person on a bike to come by. I mean, they were summoned. Where were they? Time was ticking by and the part of me that gets frustrated with late people started to come out. I couldn't stand still any longer, I made my sister take off and we walked to Mile 7 where there was a promise of a STATIONARY medical tent. We get to mile 7 and sure enough, there was a medical tent. Only they were only equipped with BAND AIDS. I was about to leave in a huff when one of the attendants came back with tape. Finally. Except, I was taped up rather unprofessionally (probably didn't help that I said to the girl, "Do you know how to tape an ankle?" But it also didn't help that they were all about the band aids either!!) and as soon as I started to walk on it, my circulation was pretty much nonexistent So, as we started up the hill to Eden Park, I had to rip off the bandage again. The theme of my race was starting to become clear - this is RIDICULOUS!! A bike guy asked me if I wanted band aids as he watched me rip off the ankle tape in a fit of "this is ridiculous!" rage and someone was summoned to tape up my ankle again. This time, the med guy was much more proficient as I sat on the side of the road and had my ankle taped up. I did have to get my sis to rip off the heel part and then I was on my way again. I was getting super irritated that we were so behind where we once were when we were running - now there seriously weren't that many people behind us. Apparently 40 minutes had passed since we first tried to get medical attention. You just can't make up that kind of time!

I had to loosen the tape so we walked some more. We walked until I felt semi-confident that I'd be able to run a little bit. So we did. But then we stopped again. And then we started again. Then stopped. The pain in my leg was getting worse. I knew I couldn't do it and I was definitely feeling sorry for myself. I complained. And my sister listened. And this went on from mile 7 to mile 12. And then finally, we went for it and ran. And we ran until the end. My leg was really hurting but I didn't care. I had to run the last mile. I wanted to run across the finish line. My sister stayed with me the whole time. She pointed up and told me our family was watching us from the second level of the staduim. They were jumping up and down and screaming. I waved. We crossed the finish line together. She held me up the whole way even though I was feeling so down (and probably bringing her down too...not probably - definitely!)

We finished the race together. We teared up together. And then we went into the medical tent together and she watched me get giant ice packs taped to my right leg.

I don't regret starting the race. Not for a second. I do regret dragging my sister into my poor performance, but at the same time, there was no way I would have been able to finish without her. She was my rock throughout and I wish I could let her know how much it meant to me. After all, she's the one who inspired me to run in the first place. My cousin did really awesome and I'm so proud of her. Next time sis and I are going to be by her side!!

I'm going to go back to physio and try to get stronger for next time. Yes, there HAS to be a next time because I won't let this race be the only half marathon I've ever finished. My body beat me this time but my mind was ready to do it. So I'll just have to work harder next time. More cross-training and less bronchitis at the beginning of training.

In October 2007, I told everybody that would listen that I was going to run a half marathon. I hadn't even signed up yet. I just wanted to get it out there so then I'd have to do it. I don't like going back on my word.

I'm going to run another half marathon when my leg gets better. I've said it... So now I'll have to do it."