|The course was beautiful with views of the Manhattan skyline heading to the turn around and the finish.|
Well, once we made the decision to continue, it was do or die. If you went out you really had no choice but to trudge back in. It was torture. Starting out at an 11:00-ish pace slowed down to a snail's crawl, especially the last 4 miles with the wind pushing us back. Cramps in my left calf had me at a dead stand still at times and at mile 12, I had no idea how I would finish. We were out there, all alone. Charlie was a prince and just tried to keep me going. I had no idea he was struggling just as much as I was. He held it all in knowing if he demonstrated just a bit of weakness I would just lose my shit.
|all alone with the bridge and that fucking wind|
|We ran under the Verrazano Bridge 4 times.|
The course limit was 3 hours. Since my slowest half was 2:44, I thought we were covered. Add the horrific conditions to the mix and our time was hurting. That last mile took forever. Literally forever. Finally seeing the finish line about a third of a mile away I saw my girls from my running club, Island Girls Running. They all stayed to cheer us in. My friend Danielle ran out to run us in the last quarter mile. That did me in. I started to sob. Somehow I managed to pick up the pace to just get it the fuck done. 3:02. Charlie fell to the ground when we crossed the mat. We got him up, got our medals and a couple of useless reflective blankets, since the wind made them impossible to wear. They just turned into frigging parachutes. IGR took a finish photo and we all ran to our cars. Thankfully we were parked (illegally) not even a block from the finish.
We got to the car and Charlie lost it. Seeing him cry made me realize just how much he pushed himself to get me through this ordeal. He was in pain, both physically and mentally. He told me how proud he was of me for persevering and finishing that race, when he was with me every step of the way, grinding through it too. I couldn't have done that without him. We crossed that finish line dead last. Our first time ever coming in last. It hurt. It still hurts. However, we could have been those people that didn't finish. We can be immensely proud that we didn't give in and give up.
|Can you see our teary eyes? This is after we managed to compose ourselves and commit to the hour and a half drive home.|