16 Minutes

Last week I finished the Sinister 7. Barely. It was one of the toughest races I’ve done. And I finished 16 minutes before the final cutoff.
The more I think about it, the scarier it becomes. Every little choice those days had an effect that could have easily put me over. Just the act of stopping for the bathroom could have prevented a finish.
And I wanted to fail. There were many times in the last three legs where I was tempted to slow down. If I did, then I could miss a cutoff and just stop. What kept me competing was that if I did that, I would be throwing away all the hell I had been through already. The heat of leg three. The tiredness of leg four. The darkness of led five. The long slog of leg six.
But, I buttoned down on leg six and forced myself to keep going. And I looked terrible after finishing leg 5; my sister didn’t think I would make it for the next cutoff. I pushed myself and I finished leg 6 in exactly the time I predicted when I had started. Part of me wishes I had taken it a bit slower; I looked up at one point, in the middle of the night in the middle of the wilderness and I saw all the stars. I didn’t stop to admire them. I had to keep going.
None of my friends finished. That’s what makes victory so much sweeter. They either had injuries that forced them to drop down to running with a team, or they slowed down and failed to make cut offs. And I kept injuring myself. For the first three legs, I was rolling my ankle far too many times. I have a weak ankle from an ancient injury, so rolling happens easily. But because it is so weak, I can also use it again after thirty seconds. It never did feel perfect again, and I was protective of it, which probably slowed me down.
But, I was the last place finisher. This netted me the Red Lantern award; three bottles of wine.
I am now an award winning runner.