09/17/2025
Last year I thought running a marathon was going to be the hardest thing I’d ever do. Then I ran Hood to Coast Relay.
Leading up to the race, I was convinced it would feel easy for me. 15 miles over 2 days would feel like nothing compared to 26.2 miles in 4 hours.
I was given the last leg of 12 people. Which meant I waited almost 8 hours to start running. I was holding onto the anticipation and high spirits that would send me through my first 5 miles, easy breezy.
But by the time I started running, it was 4pm, 100+ degrees, and all pavement. At the handoff, I absorbed the energy from my teammate and went out too fast. I started to crash a couple miles in, with no water or aid stations in sight. That’s when I realized I had it all wrong.
•••
I look down at my watch.
Heart rate: 182
Heat index: 102
I am 2 miles from my teammates, and my inhaler, and I’m in range for an asthma attack.
I don’t have a choice, I slow to a walk.
As I pick it up again, my heart rate soars quickly back to 190. F**k. This isn’t working.
I take out my phone, through tears I text
“Not great.”
-You’ve got this!
“Walking. Asthma.”
I understand in this moment, that I’ve only ever run for me. I train and run races with no pace goals in mind. I do it for me, and if my body needs something, I give it what it wants.
But on a team, it feels different. I’m letting them down. What I need and what they need are opposed. I need to walk, they need me to run. It’s an added mental pressure I hadn’t anticipated.
Suddenly I see Philip up ahead. I knew he would come for me, running me in with a bottle of water.
I finish my first leg, way above pace. I’m defeated and sad. I’m not sure I’ll recover for my next two legs. I get in the car with my team. “I don’t think I’m made for this,” I say.
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