Day 3,352-3 —Running Blind: Day 5 and 6 —

Leading up to the race last night, I was nervous about my eyesight and how being sick this week was going to impact my running. I had been drinking water all day, but I was worried about how my hydration was going to hold up after not having done as many runs this month. I had so many reasons not to run, but when I came back to it again and again, I knew the least I could do was try. I started the race without my glasses, and it quickly turned from being fun and adventurous to being scary as I fell one too many times and remembered all the random holes that this course had. 

After the first lap, I felt so dehydrated, to the point where I was thinking about stopping after the six and a half miles. I was so scared of not being able to see on the trail that every time I started to run I would fall. I landed on the side of my foot by accident and stubbed my toe countless times as I saw the tear in my shoe increase. When I made it back to the start, I gave myself some time to hang out and drink plenty of coconut water and some more intense hydration aids. I felt genuinely refreshed and put my glasses on and decided I would just try to run with my glasses, and if they fall off, they fall off. That second lap went by quickly, as I was feeling so much better being able to see the course. I felt good and was making up time until about two miles left, when I once again felt extremely dehydrated. Back at the start, I pushed the hydration as much as I could before starting again. I talked to some guys from Arkansas for a while on the next lap and felt okay. When I noticed my water running out and feeling completely depleted, it was too late to do anything but slow down. I felt foolish for pushing it too hard and not drinking more liquids at the start, but there was little I could do about it now and then I started falling. I don’t know exactly how many times I fell before I busted my left-hand open. I felt the blood dripping down but I tried not to look at it. 

I fell on it again not long after that and jammed my right index finger. After that, I made a mistake, I told myself I could quit when I made it back. I moved slowly back to start letting group after group pass me. I was dehydrated and my hand just hurt. When I tried to clean off my hand when I made it back, it still looked mostly the same, with the mud and dirt baked into the gash in my hand. I asked for help, and someone came over and told me I needed to wash it out, I told them I had tried but they insisted, so I let them try again, and I asked for some rubbing alcohol. There was a guy who had hurt his knee and was using it, and he handed it to me. I tried again to clean off my hand, but the mud was still pretty good. I needed a band-aid, gauze, or something if I was going to go back out again. 

If there was one there, I never found out. The person who was first helping me was gone, but did it really matter anyway? Didn't I already tell myself that I was done? I packed everything in my car and drove home. I know I could be pretty mad at myself for being able to look at things clearly, but I am not really. I had so many opportunities to not try and then give up, and I stuck out for as long as I could. At the time, I thought there was a strong possibility that I would continue to fall and hurt myself more than I had already. I don't know if that would have happened or not but I didn't want to risk it. 

Today, I thought about last night and the run and how much I still don’t feel confident about my hydration game. I need to figure out a better strategy for Shawnee Hill this year; maybe I should look into hydration training? Is that something people do?