This past weekend was a busy race weekend for us. We have on a few occasions raced twice in a
weekend or twice in a day even but it seemed as though this weekend was going
to have new challenges. We were not
running three normal running races- no Goofy Challenge this time! No this weekend would be filled with stairs,
sandy trails, and pavement.
We started off with a 31 flight stair climb. This was our second year completing this
event. The event is in partnership with
the Half Marathon we ran on Sunday. The
proceeds go to benefit the Special Olympics of Alabama. Originally this event was for first
responders and was held during the day time.
For the past few years it has been open to the general public and this
year it was moved to Friday evening.
After work we packed up, went a picked up our race packets for Saturday,
and then headed out to the tower. 
The Race to the Top of the Tower is a fun and daunting
event. The whole thing is over in about
25 minutes and as is our course we stayed steady in the upper middle pack. The first 8 flights go by quick. You feel good and then not so good. Yes your legs burn but you can take
that. Yes your feet hurt but you have
been there before. These are not the
things that stop me in these climbs- nope- instead it is the TURNING, and
TURNING, and TURNING. We joked with
others before the race about needing sea sickness medications in order to make
it!! Once the dizziness kicks in, I
start to warm up and get clammy. It
takes a few flights of stairs to get things back under control- deep
breathing. The good thing for me is at
flight 8 all the people in my pack have the same issue. The other good thing for me is I am a fast walker
and this seems to translate to being a fast stair walker too. After calming back down a little but not
losing momentum I picked up my pace again, round and round we went. Patrick was on my heels but I could not look
back to check on him; if I did my dizziness would surely cause me to go over
the railing and find myself back on the first floor. I passed a few people in the climb and hit
the cold wind of the top at about 6:40.
I quickly moved out of the way of the others stumbling up behind me. The first, First Responder made it to the
top, a fire fighter. This sight of seeing
him in full gear (helmet, jacket, pants, tanks, all of it) reach the top mixed
with the cold air was breathtaking.
Patrick was up shortly behind him.
Patrick had a struggle at the top, the cold air at the start mixed to
warm air in the stair well, and then hit with cold air at the top caused his
lungs to want to throw themselves from his chest and over the side of the
building. He held it together and walked
it off, to go see the sunset and the city lights brighten. Sadly I don’t have photos of that sunset but
from 31 flights up we could watch the final light sink below the horizon. The sky lit up with a vibrant pink and the
sea answered back a final wave as the sun was gone and night had arrived. 
The next morning we rose early to get out to the Lagoon for
our 8K trail run. Patrick likes to beat
the race director to the race site on this one and we did! We curled up in the car for about 15 minutes
before he showed up (he wasn’t late). We
hauled pancake batter, logs, bacon, grill, plates, and maple syrup; all the
while wondering why we didn’t just stay and eat instead of running. The wind was still blowing and causing a nip
in the air, so after Patrick got the fire going we huddled there, more and more
racers showing up to gather. 
We had to leave the warmth and move to the start line. As we gathered to block the wind from
ourselves at the sacrifice others, the sun began to add a little warmth. I always forget how much sand there is on
this race course. The first half mile is
on pavement, but then we break out in to the woods. Once we made that turn onto the sand I
remembered why this race was hard last year.
It was also not long till the middle of the pack was turning around due
to a dead end, in the wrong direction.
We were supposed to have turned at the cone but the arrow was not
visible so we ran right on past- some ran further than others. We turned again and righted our course. I was in a chase to catch Patrick’s sister,
Jennifer, she was just in front of me.
Patrick was also hot on my heels, after righting the sign for others; he
joined back to the course.
We twisted and turned and dug deep in the soft sand. The day was beautiful. As we entered in to a “freshly tilled bog
area”, I took out in front of Jennifer.
There was only one problem, I was leading us deeper into tilled moss and
dirt and sticks. Jennifer yelled to me
about how much this sucked and about how we needed her 6 year old to be there
to help lead us; he really is great at calling out the trail challenges. As we pushed up a few more hills Jennifer
dropped back slightly. I put in my sight
a new rabbit to chase. She was in bright
neon yellow making her easy to find in the trees. I gained little by little, mostly on sandy
uphills. I passed her with about a mile
or ¾ of a mile left. The problem was now
I was in the lead of our little group and we were still in the woods with paths
darting left and right. This is a course
known for lost runners and given the earlier wrong way I was a little
nervous. I think I may have run a little
faster just wanting people to not be following me in case I made this a 6 mile
run. I hit the finish line with a wide
stride on the pavement. I felt good and
could not help but notice that there were not many cards turned in for my age group,
but I wasn’t really sure. Patrick was a
few minutes behind me- he was the smarter one saving his legs for the following
day, as he reminded me to do before the race, at the start line, and noted
after we finished.
With the whole family across the finish line we watched a
few more finish, and then changed clothes to get warm and off to eat pancakes
and bacon. The factor that this race
ends in pancakes and bacon will keep us coming back. I placed third in my age group and I got to
enjoy the victory with a few of my Gavel Girlz teammates. 
After the race we got some errands done and then headed
home, with the best on intentions to stretch. Yeah…. That didn’t happen. The next morning we were up with the moon and
stars to drive about 45 minutes for the Gulf Coast Series: Gulf Shores Half
Marathon. I enjoy this race. The group who hosts the race is very friendly
and supportive. Also this racing series
is packed with our PRRC group, wonderful people to run with and just to hang
around.
The day was cool and misty.
My foot was hurting (maybe from the sand yesterday), I tried to put some
extra padding between the top of my foot and my shoe (by mile 6 this would be
more problematic). I started the race
with one of Patrick’s old shirts on but I had not discussed with him my plans
of throwing this shirt aside at a water station. He was not thrilled with my choice since he
“needed” it for a garage shirt, but my plan remained- trust me it is not a
flattering shirt.
We took to the road, by the time I reached the bridge at
mile 1 I was feeling over it. My legs
were tight and my foot hurt, and it was cold and misty, and I was going to have
a pouting event. The only problem was
that Patrick was quickly leaving me in his dust. I pushed up the bridge; even though I had to
look down to make sure my feet were actually touching the ground ahead of me
and not in the same place. Thankfully
Patrick slowed for me at the first turn and let me catch up to him.
We ran on with little talking for the first 5 miles. I am not sure why I was so silent, maybe my
foot hurt more than I wanted to admit or maybe I was worried about my foot and
little more than I was willing to admit.
At about mile 6 my emotional breakdown started. My foot was hurting. When Patrick asked me
about moving the cushioning patch I had on and I told him it was already on the
top of my foot and he got frustrated with me, I just stopped. Literally the
first time ever I just stopped in the middle of a race course. It was only for a second (the proof is on my
Garmin), I didn’t even walk, just stopped.
I felt overwhelmed with emotion.
Patrick yelled for me to start running and I did. Even then I knew he wasn’t being mean he was
simply trying to get me going again. And
it worked. Unfortunately I am pretty
sure the girl who ran with us for the final 7 miles, who could have witnessed
this interaction, ran with us to be sure Patrick wasn’t being mean or yelling
at me out of anger. Thankfully not she
nor I and Patrick talked about that moment.
About a half a mile up I was done with the patch- we don’t
need no stink’en patches. I stopped
again to take it off as the other two ran on, at my urging. I sprinted to catch them and in that moment
the emotions of the last half a mile and the frustrations melted away. I was good again, the way that only pushing
the pavement makes you good again.
Our new friend was very nice, a semi-local who returned to
her home town with her family. She is an
adoptive parent so we had lots to talk about.
The funny thing about this particular even is I always end up finding members
of our “child welfare family”.
Patrick and were back to good and our “No-Show” friend
joined us for a few miles. The banter back and forth helped to pass the time
and miles. In fact, the miles passed
till we were staring down the bridge again. Before we met the bridge I picked up Patrick's beloved shirt at the final water station where I had left it previously, he was happy.
One more time, one more little blip, up the bridge.
“No-Show” dropped off the hang back for his wife who was completing her
first half; our new friend got snagged on the uphill; we pushed on. I wasn’t going to be dropped this time. Left, right, left, right, there beside
Patrick up and over the damn bridge.
After that it was a smooth downhill and a light half a mile push to the
finish. I didn’t have it in me to sprint;
I had already determined something was wrong enough with my foot to make a doctor’s
appointment, so this was not my time to push.
Patrick would be there for me this time pushing me a little faster and a
little further.
Patrick grabbed my hand this time, and with a few more steps
and a few final breaths we were over the finish line.
Our time was not our best, even on this course, but this
weekend’s journey was long and steady. Well, that’s how we spent our weekend.
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