Yesterday I ran The Navy Ten Nautical Miler. What is ten nautical miles you ask?

“This is the first foot race measured in nautical miles. A nautical mile is approximately the distance of one minute of arc of latitude on the earth’s surface and 10 nautical miles is the approximate distance from the seashore to the horizon. Sailors throughout history have used this form of measurement as opposed to statute miles or kilometers.”

Considering I can’t move my legs, I thought I would just copy this from their website… It began with the base CO recounting the Battle Of Midway. Yesterday was the anniversary, I think. Pretty much all I heard was remember those sailors as you begin your own hellish battle through 10 nautical miles. I love how dramatic sailors can be. I was also listening to a few people place bets on whether or not they could finish before the temperature hit 100 degrees.

I started out feeling great. I recognized several coaches from last year’s Women Run memphis. I was hanging with them. I was drinking water. Apparently too much water, just past nautical mile marker 3 I stopped at a port a potty. The needing to pee was getting to me. I was disappointed because I had a decent time up until then but I thought it would help me in the long run. My nautical mile 5 my stomach wasn’t feeling so great. I thought about stopping at every port-a-potty. By nautical mile 7 I didn’t think I would make it to the port-a-potty. Ten minutes after entering that horrible sauna, I thought I might be able to walk out. I’ll spare you the gory details but I wasn’t feeling great and pulling up wet running tights in a sauna…not fun. I tried walking it off. Every time I started to run again, I was cramping. Dehydration anyone? When the girl in regular clothes, hair down to her waste and camel back passed me, I thought I might cry. Four miles left, I picked up with a run/walk/limp sort of thing.

The last mile, was across an old air strip. The sun was up. I had no water. I pretty much wanted to die. I ran/walked/limped across the finish line… dead last for my age group.

I was sick after my first half marathon. I knew I could have done better. I was disappointed. This race was far shorter. It took me longer to finish. I know it would have been easy to hop a ride on the sheriff’s gator. I didn’t. This morning, I’m proud to say I finished… dead last.

As a side note, I felt awful for the rest of the day. My stomach was upset until almost dinner time. I had a killer headache. My legs are now aching. For the friend who wants to be inspired… I would do it at 3 hours all over again just to see the girls’ faces when I handed them the medal.