Well the marathon didn't go exactly as planned, to say the least. Occasionally on previous runs, I would have breathing problems that would cause me to stop running while I attempted to regain my breath. It was like a mix of hyperventilating and not being able to breathe. Maybe throw in some nausea and dizziness for added effect. It happened on 3 runs but subsequent runs were a-ok.
Enter the Pittsburgh Marathon. Of course I was feeling nervous about the run. But the morning of, my nerves were turning over to excitement. We started the run fine enough but maybe about a mile in I felt the breathing problems coming on. We moved over to the side of the road so I could regain my breath, and continued on. Only, it happened again a short while later. Someone was kind enough to come over and talk me through breathing...in through your nose, out through your mouth...and we continued on. Then around mile 4 I could feel it coming on again, reached for my dad's arm, and the next thing I knew I was on the ground. Apparently I passed out in my dad's arms and he hit me on the back to wake me up. Another runner helped my dad carry me to a nearby ambulance, where EMTs checked my vitals (all okay) and helped me calm down. Needless to say, I wasn't going to finish the race.
Once I was released from the ambulance, my dad and I made the walk back to our hotel. I was frustrated and disappointed. Frustrated that I couldn't will my body to complete the race. Disappointed that I couldn't complete something I was so mentally and physically invested in. At one point I removed my number bib from my shirt and ripped it up before tossing it in the trash. The rain didn't help. It's hard to think that I essentially failed at something I had been training for so long for. Hell, I partially created this blog to help me through the training process! I think you get the idea..
But through all of this disappointment and frustration I can't help but be thankful that I am okay. And thankful that my dad was with me when it happened. And that there were runners kind enough to stop running their own marathon and help me (looking back, I can't positively say I would have done the same thing, though I would like to think I would...). But I can't let myself associate running with disappointment, or even fear. I'm going to get this breathing thing sorted out. I'm going to get back to running. I'm going to run another marathon.
now here are some baby ducks that made me smile on that day:
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