(Specifically, the 30K Team Haasome ran two weekends ago)
3 AM - Confusion
When you have to wake up in the middle of the night for a race, a number of things run through your foggy brain:
"Why is the alarm going off at 3 a.m. on a Sunday?"
"Why didn't you set the coffee pot last night before we went to bed?"
"Why do we do this to ourselves?"
"What's stopping me from hitting snooze 18 times?"
4:30 AM - Excited Anticipation
The haze in your brain has usually cleared up by now and once you have your number pinned on, you begin thinking things like:
"Man, this is great! No one else up at this time except for me and 1,000 of my closest friends. Runners sure are awesome."
"I can't believe I'm doing this again!! AAGGGHHH! AWESOME! Let's go run 18+ miles!"
"We got this! WOOT! OMG OMG OMG here we go!"
5-6 AM - Happy
This is from the time the gun goes off through the first 6 miles and some change. During this time, you can expect to feel genuinely happy (hard to beleive, but true):
"Wow. Look at that sunrise. This is great."
"Don't you feel good?! I sure feel good. I'm so happy to be out here running and feeling good!"
"Man, I'm SO happy that we decided to do this together"
7 AM - Anger
Due to confusion over a nature break that was required, maybe your running partner gets a little testy with you over having to wait. Happiness/elation is gone and now not only are you feeling achey in your knees, but you are pissed off and your brain is saying things like:
"How was I supposed to know were were rendezvousing over there?! I know I'm haasome, but I'm not a damn mind reader"
"Oh, now he's not talking to me. Fine. Both ear buds in...turn up the volume...it's like he's not even there"
"Pffft. It's like he thinks I'm not even here. I thought the point was to do this together. I guess it's just all about you. Like everything else. So not surprised."
7:15 AM - Spite
After a couple of quippy smart-ass comments back and forth, coupled with the increasing stress your body is enduring around mile 13, you may just have had enough. You think the only logical thing there is to think:
"I can still totally kick his ass. I'm going to run a few steps ahead of him for the next mile or so just so he still knows what's up."
And you do. And you smirk to yourself. And your knees/back/feet are really starting to hurt.
7:30 AM - Resolve/Contrition/{Whatever emotion you feel when all hope is gone}
You have proven your point and now feel bad. A couple of slaps on the butt and you are back in action - the only problem is, you want to die. Not just your brain, but every cell of your body is screaming at you:
"Well done, you proved your point - but for the love of God and all things holy, YOU MUST STOP RUNNING!!!"
"Hey! My hamstring doesn't hurt anymore! Oh wait, it's because I really think my leg is going to have to be amputated at the knee at the next aid station."
"Where is the next aid station?! If there's an ambulance there, I'm on it"
"There is nothing good in the world."
8 AM - Elation!!!!
You can see the finish line! It is there before you! Friends are cheering and you KNOW there is a cooler waiting for you in the truck filled with post-race happiness. You think:
"We are the best runners on the planet!"
"No one has ever been so amazing!!!!"
"That really wasn't that bad. Man, running is the best"
"Endorphins are the BEST!!!!!"
"I'm happy this is over! Where's my muffin? Where's the CHAMPAGNE?!"
8:15 AM - Giddy/Exhausted/Justified
You just ran more than 18 miles and this is your reward:
Everything hurts, but you feel great. Just look at how wonderful you can feel after running so far:
The sun is shining! You have champagne! You are badass for running so far! You are surrounded by love and friends and everything that is good in the world. **Sigh** It just doesn't get better than this.
Until....
8:45 AM - Puking. The worst of all Running Emotions
Running for so far has adverse effects on a body. I can't explain it. I'm a champagne champion. I can drink BOTTLES without feeling pukish, so one measley red solo cup shouldn't phase me. No, I don't blame the champagne. I blame the running.
Thanks for capturing the moment, babe! Mmmm...Cliff Shot Bloks and Champagne. Fantastic. Post-race puking runs in the Eppens Clan. DadE and David have also been known to give up the contents of their stomachs to the race gods. (Also: please note the flattering angle and how my calves look here!!)
I didn't say it was glamorous, this running business.
On that note, I'll say: Happy Trails, Friends!!! Here's to your continued running and emotional health!
xo
