P.F. Changs Rock and Roll Marathon

This was a hometown race for me, so I was able to pick up my packet, eat brunch at the Casino (using the excuse of carb loading) and head home to rest.

After laying out my clothes and taking the ceremonious "Flat Amanda" picture, I headed to bed.  I tossed and turned all night long with pre-race nightmares.  What if I overslept?  What if I rolled my ankle?  What if I passed out from the heat?  What if I had an asthma attack?  All these thoughts were racing through my head as I mentally prepared for my second sub-4 attempt.  

I did wake up on time, exhausted from "what if" nightmares.  This was definitely not conducive to reaching my goal.  I made it to the train in time and headed downtown to the start.  I had only ever ran the half at Changs, so this was going to be a new experience-a good mix of old and new course routes.  

After meeting up with my friends and chatting for a bit, it was time to drop off our drop bags and line up.  Right about then, my stomach decided to wake up.  My first thought was, "Oh no!  Not another Vegas!"  I bolted for the portapotty.  Thankfully, the line wasn't long, so I was able to relieve myself and jump in my corral with the 3:45 pace group.  The plan was to stick with them for as long as possible and bank some time, so the second half would be easier.

I stayed with the 3:45 pace group for the first eight miles, feeling fabulous.  It was then that my lungs started hating me.  I eased up a bit, knowing full well I had enough time banked to take it easier.  I still hit the half point at 1:53, shaving three minutes off my half marathon personal record.  I started choking up with excitement, which led to a full blown asthma attack.  I saw Mitzi on the side of the road around mile fourteen and she let me have a puff of her inhaler, but it was too late.  

I made it to the 14.5 mile medical station, checked in and waited in a chair wheezing until the paramedics could get a nebulizer to me.  Ten minutes of waiting, ten minutes on the nebulizer and three minutes of paperwork later, I signed out against medical advice and started on my way.  They suggested I go to the hospital, but I respectfully declined because I had a race to finish.

I maintained a leisurely 9:30-10 minute/mile pace for the remainder of the race, not wanting a repeat of the 14.5 mile episode.  Around mile sixteen, I came across a dead squirrel in the middle of the road.  I couldn't help but hope that wasn't an omen!  Chris passed by me on the out and back portion around my mile 18 and I ran across the median to give him a quick kiss.  Mile twenty came with a beer that I stopped to chug.  I was trying to find anything and everything to force myself to slow down and be entertained at the same time.  

I ended up crossing the finish line with a time of 4:24.  If you subtract the twenty three minutes in the medical tent and even one of the shenanigans from the second half of the race, I would've had another sub-4.  I couldn't help but kick myself as I pictured my inhaler sitting in the floor board of my car.  This whole debacle of a race was totally my fault and I was inconsolable.  One of the "What if"s of my nightmares had come true and I only had myself to blame.  You can bet I will never forget my inhaler again!