(Title should be said in the sketchy Sherut driver voice from outside the Central Bus Station...)
Where to begin?
If you have been following this blog, you know that the main reason for me running the Tel Aviv Half Marathon was that I missed out on the Jerusalem Half Marathon back in March due to a slight back injury. These passed 2 months have not been pain free but I have been trying to do what I can to get back in shape for such a long distance. I was soooo ready back in March. May was a different story. My longest run was 17km but it wasn't the best of runs and left a lot to be desired. I can't tell you that the days and hours leading up to the race went smoothly, 'cause they didn't. I will explain everything, in detail, with some very funny very typical Rachel 'stressing out' stories.
The race was Friday May 14th. I was all set to go to sleep early the night before, in my own bed, wake up early and take a sherut to Tel Aviv at 5am Friday morning and get to the starting point on time for the race. I had everything all planned out. Everything except for the fact that the last time to pick up our race numbers and schwag was by Thursday night 9pm in Tel Aviv. I didn't freak out, I was calm since my friend Lisa, who lives in Tel Aviv and was staying in Jerusalem for a class we had on Friday, which I was missing, said that I could sleep in her apartment, THANK GOD, and it was all going to work out fine. All I had to do was pack everything and go straight from school to Tel Aviv pick up my stuff for the race and find her apartment. It all worked out well but I was starting to get nervous about the race. Like any good Koenigson, I set my alarm to go off and leave me with way too much time to get ready in the morning and make it on time or extremely early to the starting point. I watched some TV, tried to settle in and eat some pasta for dinner, but I could not for the life of me fall asleep. I think I finally fell asleep around 12ish when I started the process at 10. I also woke up every 2 hours, which wasn't that often since by 430 I gave up and started getting ready. Its a good thing too, since when I went downstairs to catch a cab, no one was stopping. I guess I didn't realize that 5am is prime time to come home from partying. I finally found a cab that stopped and begged him to take me, after he dropped the other passengers off, to the race. Little did I know that this was going to be a long process. First we had to find the French tourists an ATM that was working so that they could take out money to pay for the, finally at the 3rd ATM we were successful. Then we had to find roads that were open inorder to drop these guys off at their hotel. It would have been much cheaper and much faster had they walked from where I was picked up but there's no use getting all wound up about it again, now. So as we were driving in circles up and down Allenby, the same street I would be running up and down a couple of hours later, I started to get a bit agitated. Every side street was closed off. We finally found a street to turn down that would take us in the right direction and drove like law abiding citizens until one cop yelled at us for stopping at a red light, since there was no real point. So the next red light we drove thru and got stopped by a cop and yelled at for not abiding by the rules. As he was yelling at the driver for not stopping I got fed up and firmly asked him "if he thought he could let us get on with the drive since I needed to get to the start of the race that was starting any minute now and he was just holding us up." So he goes to me, "what, you're really running in the marathon?" and like my wonderful, sarcastic, agitated self, I said to him "no, I just like dressing like this and driving around a 5am for the fun of it." He let us go... We dropped the Frenchies off, but not without hearing from them how much they hate marathoners. Finally we were on our way and followed another cabbie who "knew where he was going" to the closest possible start to the marathon and I had to walk another 10 minutes to get to the start. Needless to say, Danielle, who had come from Jerusalem, got there before I did. I went to the bathroom and with 5 minutes to spare found my place in the line to start and we were on our way. I barely had time to stretch, but I had already technically warmed up...
I started the race with the chills and sweating a bit but I didn't really take that much notice to it, I thought that I was just worked up and nervous from the whole build up that the more had held for me. The chills stayed with me the whole race, all 2.5 hours of it. Looking back it probably wasn't the smartest idea to run the race like that and I probably had a fever or something since I did come down with a cold after the race, but its too late now to do anything about it. I finished, not with in the amount of time I had hoped for, but I finished. The first half I ran at a good pace, and had I kept that pace up I would have finished in a decent time but the exterior pathogens that had invaded my body got the best of me. By kilometer 12 I was ready to pass out and give up, just then some guy old enough to be my grandfather passes me walking and goes "you can't stop! its not good! keep running!" So that's what I did, cursing him the whole time, I kept running. From the beginning though, I was stopping at the water stations, since I am sure I have mentioned before, I can't run and drink at the same time, the water just pours down the front of my shirt, and I was already cold, I didn't need to add to that aspect. Anyway, I continued to walk when I hit each water station, but quickly picked up the shuffle that had become my rhythym somewhere along the way. By kilometer 17 I was really done. I felt that my walking pace was faster then my shuffle so I alternated walking and running until the end.
I made it to the finish line, just barely alive. Thankfully I had taken advice from other runners and pinned clifbars to my pants and had eaten them along the way but I needed salt. Danielle and Emily found me took my picture and I tried to make it into the area where they were sitting, which required taking off my running chip. It felt nice to sit down but I wasn't so sure I was going to be able to stand back up. Slowly I made my way to them, got my gatorade sat down and stretched. After a nice amount of time we started to make our way back to Tel Aviv proper. We walked a bit to get out of the park and to get the bus, found the bus, switched busses and got off at the totally opposite side of the street to our most important destination the cupcake store. Now, back in March when I signed up to run this thing, Danielle sent me the link to the store and we both agreed, hands down that thats where we were going after the run. So, we went and it was amazing and I never use that word lightly. The first thing I did was ask for a coke. Not diet and not coke zero, one hundred percent regular coca-cola and it hit the spot perfectly. I downed it in two gulps and almost asked for another one but restrained myself. Then we had to decide on the cupcakes that we wanted. The flavors ranged from cookies and cream and pina colada to red velvet and chocolate peanut butter. I had the oreo one and a vanilla and apricot one and we all shared tastes from each others different cupcakes. Then we split the peanut butter and chocolate one 3 ways. It was all well worth it and a nice reward for the distance run. We then started on our way back to change since I thought that it was enough of walking around all smelly and gross even if I was wearing the "Noa Shirt" and getting great responses to it.
I showered, changed and then went to the Tel Aviv artists fair, Nachalat Binyamin, which was right next to where I had slept, and bought myself a bracelet as a congratulations for finishing the 21km. After a little bit, the sun started to get to me and I made my way back to Jerusalem where I proceeded to cook for shabbas and then pass out on the couch until my guests arrived. By the time I made it home I was walking like an invalid and it was nice that I didn't have to go anywhere until the next day to the King David for lunch...
I am not as sore as I thought I would be, which is a good thing and I'm not complaining. Now I have to start my marathon training. Slowly and carefully with the least amount of injuries possible along the way!
Maybe I'll stick another short race somewhere in the middle.
Peace out.
Here's a picture of me crossing the finish line...
