“Ma’am! Ma’am! I turned my sweaty head to my left to see a burly police officer standing by his car and waving his arms. He was standing in the middle of the road, in front of a big wooden sign that said, “Road Closed.” He waved for me to go straight on the road instead of right. “You saved my life!,” I yelled to him as I redirected my path to stay on course. That nearly lethal wrong turn at mile 4.2 wasn’t going to be the last.

Less than half a mile later I came to a roundabout in the road. There was a line of lime green cones in the road in front of it. Did we already run this way? Will we finish this way? I didn’t know. There were no runners in sight in front of me and no one from the event staff was there to direct me. I took a right again this time. I continued on a little ways. A group of firefighters hung out in front of their truck, in blue attire, shooting the breeze. I almost asked them if I was on the course but I didn’t. I veered left and was more confused by a group of spectators who started cheering me on. Again, there were no other runners in sight. I kept winding on the road, staying this time to the right of the lime green cones in the center of the road. At last, one runner approached me from the other direction. A motorcycle cop led him, with lights flashing. He was nearing the end. He was the race leader. The guy was flying and looked a little like he was tired. I would be too if I ran a 6:14/mile pace. I said, “Good job!” as we passed each other. The second place guy appeared not too much later. I told him good job as well. I’d seen the two back at mile 2 running together. I assumed I was on the right track.

A long sad stretch of road appeared in front of me. I saw one lone runner way off in the distance and couldn’t tell if he was coming or going. He was a black man with a lean build. He waved his arms up in the air at one point. Maybe he wanted to quit just as much as I did. I looked at my watch. My pace seemed to get slower and slower, legs heavier and heavier. How could I possibly get through a half marathon in a few months?

The industrial area of Portsmouth was barren on a Saturday morning. There were hardly any runners in sight. I saw more cones and a side road that could have been part of the course. Thankfully a woman stood at that fork and told me to go straight when I asked if I needed to turn. “Mile 5 is straight ahead. It’s the same as the first mile you did.” Maybe I was delirious because the mile this time around looked different.

The sun beamed down and my skin kept producing sweat. The sweat had nowhere to go. I trudged along, looking at my watch all too often. A few times I peered over my shoulder to see how close the guy behind me was. He won’t catch me. My legs felt like cinderblocks. They refused to go faster. Finish strong, I told myself, but I couldn’t drop the pace below 8:30/mile. This was slower than my half marathon pace last fall. But this was a 10k!

Finally, I saw the pavilion poking up in the sky and I heard the music. The finish was there. I made one right turn and didn’t kick much at all like I normally do in a race. I didn’t have any kick in me. Seeing the time on the clock was disheartening – about 5 minutes slower than I ran a 10k last fall.

I read later an article about dew points and humidity. The dew point yesterday was probably around 71 degrees and the temperature probably about 75 degrees. It felt very hot. Sweat dripped off me. Running coaches say the body has to work very hard in the heat to stay cool. It slows one down. Yessss.

I survived another 6.2 miles at the Coast Guard 10k. I placed 3^rd overall female out of 68. Not too shabby. First in my age group out of 12. I can’t wait for fall, and even winter at this point. That 10k I crushed last fall was in late November and it was probably 45 degrees outside. My training last summer paid off in the fall. Hopefully it will again this year. I just have to not get lost on the course. The announcer at the start of this race said, “It’s virtually impossible to get lost on the course.” I disagree. ~