The Time I Pulled a "DNF"

Months ago, I mentioned that I was registered for the OneAmerica 500 Festival Mini-Marathon in Indianapolis on May 5.  I have participated in this race for four years now, and it just might be my favorite half-marathon.  First of all, it's the largest half in the country with 35,000 people.  Secondly, Indianapolis is a great city, and they work really hard to create an amazing event for all of those runners.  And to top it off, this course holds my 13.1 PR!

When I found out that I was pregnant, I had every intention of running the race.  My doctor was very clear about the fact that I could maintain most physical activities since I was already pretty active.  Her rule of thumb?  As long as I am not gasping for air, I am fine.  I slowed my pace down significantly and figured I'd just run slow and enjoy the training.

(Side note:  I know some people may disagree with me here.  Every pregnant woman is different, and every doctor gives different advice based on their patients.  Some stop working out altogether, and some continue as normal.  My doctor and I discussed my fitness in great detail, and I have followed all of her advice and instructions.)

And then, the dreaded "morning sickness" kicked in.  Except for me, it was more like "afternoon/evening" sickness, and I spent many afternoons after school, nauseous as hell.  And on those afternoons, running was the furthest thing from my mind.  All I wanted was my couch, some crackers and my DVR.  And as a result, any motivation I had went right out the window.  I actually started taking more Bar Method classes (which I already loved) since they were low impact and for some reason, seemed to relax my stomach.

However, the weather magically started to turn just as I was hitting my second trimester, and like that, I was ready to run again.  I knew that I was undertrained for the half-marathon, so I went to Indy with every intention of running the 5K.  At dinner, the night before the race, my husband and I began to discuss the possibility of a longer distance (I knew I could handle at least 6 miles or so - especially since I would be running much, much slower), and we hatched a plan for the next morning.

(Side note:  We stayed at the uber chic The Alexander in downtown Indy.  I am making a vow, here and now, that when I do run the full half next year, we WILL stay here again.)

The plan?  I would start the half.  I would take it mile by mile, stopping at every single water station, walking when I needed to, etc.  I wouldn't log any miles under a designated pace, and I'd pay attention to my body and communicate with my husband.  I was SO excited to be running that I actually found myself crying...twice.

Miles 1-5 felt pretty incredible, and I knew that as I was approaching the Indianapolis Motor Speedway (kind of the best part of the race - you get to run a lap on the track), Mike would be waiting with the car.  I could stop at any time.  Right before entering the track, I saw him, told him I felt great, and that I was going to run the loop.  This took me through miles 6-8.

Y'all, I had SO.MUCH.FUN.  I was just so happy to be running, and as much as I wanted to finish the race, I knew that stopping was the smartest idea.  Unfortunately, I had miscalculated the loop, and by the time I exited the speedway and got to a safe place to stop, I had hit 9 miles.

So, I logged my first "DNF" (Did not finish) with no regrets.  I made a decision that was right for me at the time, and as mentioned earlier, I was just so happy to be running again that I could care less about not crossing the finish.  I know many of you asked me how the race went, and I was very vague with my answer.  I hope you understand why - I just didn't want to launch into a full explanation over social media, knowing that this post was coming:)

And of course, that didn't stop me from celebrating and eating ALL OF THE FOODS.

Have you ever DNF'd?