(Yes, I KNOW this is like six months late. Oh, well. In my defense, I couldn't actually write this recap at the time of the race anyway, because the things that made this race special to me were not public knowledge....)
I will start this by stating, for the record, that I met
absolutely none of the goals that I’d set out for myself at Disney Princess
(well, other than my goal to beat my time from 2011). But, the memories from
that race are ones that I will cherish forever.
Rewind to Thursday morning in the main dining room at Port
Orleans Riverside, when I’m BARELY coherent after getting in very, very late
the night before. My best friend (Duchie) & her husband had flown in the
night before from Chicago and I hadn’t seen them yet. Cue the hugs and
squealing as we reunite. I notice
that they exchange a “look” and I knew SOMETHING is up (seriously, I’ve known
this woman for 16 years: I know when something is up), so I demand to know what’s
going on. At which point she shows me an ultrasound of two tiny blobs. Cue MAJOR SQUEALING. And
HUGGING. And tearing up. And then she says: “did you see how many there were?”
And ZOMG, MY BEST FRIEND IS HAVING TWINS! They’ve only just found out
themselves and she’s about eight weeks pregnant.
My original plan was to run the half at marathon goal pace (I was in training for the Eugene Marathon at the time). We started off at that pace, more or less, but it wasn’t super easy for either of us. The humidity always kills me (although I know I could have pushed and done it) and…she was 8 weeks pregnant. I think there was a moment, around mile 5 (I remember that we could see the backside of Space Mountain), when it was obvious from her breathing that she was having a tough time. Like way tougher than it should have been for her at that pace: she’s a 2:06ish half marathoner and we were on pace for 2:15. That was the first time I really realized how big an impact this pregnancy was going to have (and already had had) on her body. I think we both realized that in order to finish the race in whatever manner was safest for her and the tiny, precious cell blobs growing inside of her, we were going to have to throw “goal paces” out the window, slow down, and listen to what her body was saying.
Duchie kept telling me to go ahead and leave her. I told her
there was no fucking way that I was leaving her. For one thing, if anything
happened, I needed to be there to help her (and I knew that her husband and
family were counting on me to get her through this race). And, I kind of
already knew that this was going to be our last chance to run together for a
really long time (indeed, her doctor told her NO MORE RUNNING at her
appointment the following week). No way was I going to sacrifice this last run
with my best friend and best running buddy for a chance at a PR. No PR means
more than friendship.
From then on, we slowed down. We took some long walk breaks
to get down gels and when her energy was down. We did a potty stop. We filled
up our water bottles at least twice. We ran pretty slowly, but steadily. We
chatted & laughed & strategized. But, we STILL didn’t stop for photos
(although I told her that we’d HAVE to stop if Rucifee was out on the course…),
because…it’s a race, not a meet & greet.
My absolutely favorite moment was when a little boy along
the side of the course pointed at us, in our matching yellow shirts and Skirt
Sports skirts and yelled: “TWINS!” Oh, kid, you had no idea!
For the record, Duchie
later admitted to me that she hadn’t told her doctor that she was planning to
run a half marathon. She DID tell him that she was going to Disney World, but
might have accidentally on purpose omitted the reason for the trip. I’m really
glad that she did! That race made me so, so happy. I have no idea what our
final time was (2:27? 2:26?), but I’ll never forget running through the Castle
and across the finish line hand in hand, with our arms raised in triumph.
Duchie is one BAMF. And I do mean “mother.”
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