By the time I hit the 5k mark, my legs felt like lead. The funny thing is, I was going more conservatively than I intended, just so I wouldn't die out and I still felt like I was dying. The course is hilly, but not crazy. However, it felt a million times heavier than I remembered. I tried to slow and just hang on, but ended up walking right before the 4 mile mark. Some guy running near me tried encourage me to keep going. I kind of smiled and pick it back up. I ran again for about a quarter mile, then walked again.
By mile 5, I took a gel and texted Ryan that I was dying. I got a little burst and ran again, maybe for a half mile. This continued on. I would run, walk, text Ryan. It was awful. I was angry at myself, mainly because I didn't hurt, I just couldn't get a pace that worked. No matter how fast or slow, it all just felt so so hard.
Every time goal went out the window and I found myself walking way more than running. It definitely helped that the crowd support was good. The volunteers were excellent at cheering on runners and that motivated me to try to run.
I was so glad to see the finish line in the park and actually ended the last mile at a good pace, but crossed the finish in 1:40 or a 10:00 minute mile. 10 minutes off my B goal. At the time, I was mad at myself. Mad that I walked so much. Mad that 10 minute miles felt hard, when two weeks earlier sub-9 felt easy peasy.
It helped to get a cool-looking medal and a popsicle, though: