DFL-icious.

(photo: Bobbi Bowers.) When payout/prizes go 4 deep, and you're 4th of 4, you get the sweet sweet beer of a winner, even though you're really not. It's one of the oddities of women's racing. It happens alot... much like our WEMS series wins.

I've had a lot of DFL action this year. It's sort of a joke to me, since I'm slow and I know it, since racing is something I do for the social aspect more than anything, but I do want to share my thinking on this one...
First, I've done things this year that are new to me or that I don't usually do. One of the DFL's is on the track, which I've not ridden in two years. One is in an "open" class packed with superfast expert women, which I've never raced before.
Second, I still believe that finishing whole is more important than where I place. In the case of that WEMS race, I just wasn't risking a tumble down from the off-camber slickness, so I just took my time and did what I could to stay upright. I still think that drop out and DFL was a good, logical choice.
Third, I don't drop out of events just to avoid the DFL. Which I know some people do. But if I'm going to be able to cross the finish line, I will. Sorta like my failure marathon: if I said I'd do it, I'll do it, no matter how slow.
And finally, I'm really not serious about racing. I have it coming, basically. My love of beer will never be supplanted by concern for race weight, and my training still bows to the exercise needs of my dog.

Either way, we keep rolling. Yesterday Molly and I ran ~8 mi to the lake and back, and later I checked out the Track Cats fundraiser with Audrey. And drank lots of beer.

If I can't make it, I'll make it out.

Well, I feel like I wasted 18 weeks of my life. That was a complete failure. Flying Pig Marathon '09, and this pig just didn't fly.

Start Saturday night though, when Judi suggested an awesome restaurant where we all had dinner. It was delicious. I love Judi because I feel like she's super grounded and we see eye-to-eye on so much. Then we went back to the complete mess of an expo (strategically set up so you have to walk past EVERY vendor) and made fun of the live models.

After a crappy night of not-much-sleep on a back-hurtingly-soft bed, it was up and out. I chose a t-shirt instead of sleveless, which I'd later find was a bad choice. Got to the start 2 minutes before gun and had to jump a barrier to join the field. And we're off.

Mile one, cough up a lung. For three miles, I was at or below pace. Then mile 3 I started getting overheated- probably my cold. Said hi to Ben at the bridge at mile 3 or so and already I had nothing but bad things to say. The 4:45 pace group passed me, saw Ben again, and again, I was all bad news. By mile 5 I was seeing stars and ended up puking by the side of the road. Surprised I didn't pass out. Then came the hills, and they were HILLS. Like, out of the saddle in the little ring hills. My little pit stop had me off pace, so I walked the hills, saving.

The overheating continued and screwed with my hydration. I had visions of cold showers, clear water swimming pools, drinking gallons. I knew if I drank as much as I wanted, I'd get sloshy and be done for. I really felt crappy. The decided that I'd try to keep the 5:00 pace group behind me to the half, and then do whatever after that. I accomplished this small feat.

After that, it was crawling to the finish line. Like, 12:00 miles or slower, walking through water stations to make the times even worse. I just felt fantastically terrible. I kept shuffling along and just sang to myself. I met a local girl at mile 17 and we chatted and kept eachother going till mile 25. Then her husband ran with her and I pressed on.

5:15. At least 30 minutes slower than I hoped. I cried. And cried and cried. I don't know what to think. Marathons aren't like races we usually do because you have one shot. You train 18 weeks for one day. And my one day was for shit. Why waste all spring trying only to get WORSE? I was supposed to meet Judi afterward, but we just left. I feel like a crappy friend for it, but I just couldn't handle anything.

So, that's my 4th race this year. 2 running, 2 riding. And all off-the-back, slower-than-pace, stupid excuses. I'm a real failure as a halflete. But at least I can show up with a smile, enjoy a beer, support other folks that don't suck, and be an athletic supporter.