Welcome Back, Pain

With eventual winner Brigitte MacNaughton Egbert at the start of the Hawaii Pacific Health Women's 10K, looking like tough girls but really just chatting about our kids, careers, super hot husbands (oops: she has one, I don't), and life balance.

After a break from racing for nearly a year, I ran the Hawaii Pacific Health Women's 10K over a hilly course in humid weather this weekend. Though I've been racing in some sport or another for as long as RR has been alive, I simply needed to remind myself how to line up and make myself hurt again (and wow, does it burn!). I hung in there, sort of, with speedy and super fit Brigitte MacNaughton Egbert for the first four miles — until she decided to really drop me. Then I got a bit indolent, knowing I wouldn't win but wouldn't get third either. A very lazy place to be, indeed. Luckily, we both enjoyed a nice cheering section in Stacky and RR, who sat this one out.

The day before, RR and I ran 14.5 miles over the new Hapalua half-marathon course like two old ladies. We asked people where we could find water. We stopped at every traffic light. We walked. We complained bitterly about what we declared was most certainly 100% humidity. Half the day passed before we finished. Honestly, it felt like a death march. I had caught and recently shaken a cold from my unsanitary seat mates on an airplane a couple of weeks earlier. But now her son was sick, and she felt like she might be coming down with it too, so she opted for spectator duty. Smart girl.

I had planned to run a long cool down and maybe even bike easy after the race. Instead I ordered a massive sandwich, poured a glass of wine, dug into a hunk of chocolate, and tried to brainstorm solutions to work challenges while watching the stand-up paddlers from my lanai.

Running seven extra miles in next weekend's half-marathon feels unimaginable. I just hope I can keep up with Brigitte and RR long enough to savor some company. Remember, just a few of us girls will be starting 18 minutes ahead of the world class athletes and the men. Which means there's nothing to do but suffer physically until everyone starts to pass you. And then your self-esteem can join the sad little party.

Ah, but I think it will be a good experience. Character building, at the very least!