Bilbao Night Marathon

I registered for this race in May, after finishing a 5 mile run at a pace that, if sustained, would set a PR. The stresses of moving abroad were behind us. In front of me was a summer in a city perfect for running (flat, pedestrian-friendly, not oppressively hot). 

But then came the injuries [tendonitis, aggravating an ankle sprain]. I didn’t run for almost a month. Once I recovered from these and began running again, the health issues started. My pace was terrible. I couldn’t make it three miles without needing to take a break. How was I going to run 13.1?

Almost a month ago I ran not quite 10 miles at a decent pace. While I recently hadn’t been quite as quick as I’d hoped [possibly due to the abdominal issues], I felt strong. I only had two training runs and a colonoscopy standing between me and my first international half-marathon. Plus, I’m typically always faster on race day. I felt good about the possibility of setting a PR, especially if the colonoscopy succeeded in resolving the stomach woes.

Then, things took a wild turn.

Although I was cleared to run again by my neurologist a week after being released, my hospitalization [and initial doctor’s orders to refrain from vigorous physical activity] meant that I’d missed the final two training runs that I’d had planned. A vacation to Menorca, which we both desperately needed, meant that I wouldn’t be able to get another long run in before race day. This left me feeling completely unprepared for 13.1, both physically and psychologically.

I initially thought I’d sit this one out, even though the neurologist said that I could still run it. After all, being a stubborn athlete and running so much the week of my colonoscopy appointment likely contributed to the sodium deficiency. But I also noticed that I’d developed fears after the seizures. While I’d followed the doctors’ advice and gotten out to walk, most times alone, every day during the week after I was released from the hospital, I had only gone to the gym to do harder workouts when E was also going, just in case something happened. As someone who has always ran, hiked and biked by myself and has also traveled (for weeks at a time) ALONE, this was very out-of-character.

I knew that I needed to overcome the fears that had overwhelmed my thoughts for the last three weeks. I needed to prove to myself that I remained strong and capable, that I could still live my independent life, without worrying about a repeat incident. So, I decided that I’d run the 10K.

Finishing a 10K isn’t normally something that I would celebrate, especially when I was planning to run more than twice the distance. Also, my pace on race day wasn’t one that I’d normally take pride in. But, I must remember, running this race wasn’t about setting a PR. After all, it had only been three weeks since I’d woken-up in the ICU. This was about achieving something MUCH bigger.

[And I did find it incredibly cathartic.]

That being said, I didn’t love the race, and I highly doubt that I’ll register for it next year. I’m not a fan of the fact that it happens at night, as it really throws off my routine. [And I think that most distance runners over the age of 25 would agree with me.] The route was super crowded, perhaps due to the streets in Europe being more narrow [and in some cases, only closed in one direction]. Regardless of the reason, I found it very difficult to find the space to settle into my desired pace. I doubt that I’d have been able to set a PR in these conditions, even without the extenuating circumstances. They also gave out bottles of water along the route, as opposed to cups, which are difficult to open when you need hydration while running and created a serious tripping hazard when runners tossed them aside. [They’re also terrible environmentally!]

Frustrations aside, the evening ended wonderfully. Upon our return to the block, everyone celebrated me and asked how the race had gone [and how it felt for me health-wise]. Some had even gone out to the path to see if they could spot me and cheer me on. [Unfortunately, the 10K route didn’t come that close to our block.]

We really did win the neighborhood lottery!