Oh, yeah, in case you hadn’t figured it out, I’m not doing Austin 70.3 next weekend. As much fun as it was going to be fly all the way there, completely exhausted, after no training for three weeks, all stressed and tired from Steve having a broken leg and stuff, and have a terrible race, the weekend before the wedding — I decided it wouldn’t be as much fun as not going.
I decided this around mile 4 of the San Jose Half-Marathon, which was not a great time to decide I just wanted to be done. (And, really early in a half-marathon to start having the “I want to quit”/”No, don’t quit yet” debate.) After I stopped about 10 feet before the 10K mat, I sat down on the sidewalk for a little while. When I got up, I was covered in sweat and tears and snot (ok, that’s a lie, I didn’t cry until I got back to the car), and started walking the 1.75 miles back along the race course to my car.
I passed thousands of people on my way back to the car, all still running. Usually, when you clearly have dropped out of a race, everyone who sees you asks are you ok/what’s wrong/do you need help. But, whatever look I was giving off, not one of the thousands of spectators said a word to me while I walked back to the car.
And, then I was done.