WHAT'S IN A NUMBER

WHAT’S IN A NUMBER?

Recently I ran a half marathon at Princess Place Park in Palm Coast, Florida. A very cold morning for Florida, it was 39 degrees. I arrived at the race and picked up my packet, and headed back to the car to stay warm for a bit longer before facing the frigid weather. When I got to the car, my husband noticed my race number and started laughing.

So I peeked at my number and it was 666. While many people would return this number because of its devil connotation , I just said, “I’m not afraid”. I am a spiritual person, but I believe in neither the devil nor hell, and was determined not to let my race number jinx my run. I had done everything right to prepare for this race and nothing could go wrong, no superstition here.

The only other trail run I have entered was a 50K endurance run. The route was 6 loops, and I practiced it many times at the actual location. In Florida, the tree roots grow above the ground, so during my practice runs I was hopping over the roots like a quick bunny. But in the actual run,I was not so quick to jump the roots when I began to feel fatigued. After my fifth fall, injured knee, and broken finger, I had to DNF

(did not finish).

So here I am at the start of this race. No one seems to notice my macabre race number. As with any trail run, instructions are given at the start, we were told that the half-marathon route would run an extra lap near the water and there would be someone there to instruct us where to go. With my history of tripping, I was careful to look for roots, and was pleased to see that there weren’t many. It seemed that I could run in the exact middle of the trail and avoid them.

Wow, this would be a piece of cake, I imagined sharing my story of how that dreaded number turned out to be lucky for me. Having done 8 marathons and countless half-marathons, I was counting on a PR. With all those races under my belt, I’m still pretty slow and always seem to be the girl behind the fast runners - but before the back of the pack, therefore I am running by myself most of the time.

Soon runners began to pass, a large guy in a red shirt appeared right in front of me, and it took me several tries on the narrow path to get around him. I felt that I was making pretty good time, and this race was a double loop, so I was halfway done. Then I came to the part where we had to do the extra lap, I recognized a faster runner and was pleased that I was near her; thinking my time must have been good. I quickly lost sight of her as we rounded near the water. I kept on the path around the shore and wondered if I had missed a sign or exit.

was that person that was supposed to direct me? I started to panic, then I saw my car, and of course my husband was sleeping, so he was no help. It seemed like I would see some runners at the back of the pack if I was doing a turnaround. Eventually I saw runners ahead, and thought I must have picked up my speed. It was the guy in the red shirt. He looked surprised to see me.This is when I figured out that I was in last place! Where had I gone wrong, I swore there were no other signs. So I was disappointed in myself to find out that I had gone almost a whole mile extra out of the way.

When I made it to the finish line, my husband said I wasn’t the only one who got lost, and that there were people coming out of all directions. So I’m not sure if getting lost was just my bad sense of direction or really evil forces at work. I do know that if I am ever given that number again, I will not demand another number, I will keep calm and run on….after turning my racing bib upside down.