That’s what I’d like to know, too!

Welp. I finished my race, so kindly funded by readers and especially one C.W. who boosted the gofundme right over the top in a big way. Thank you so much, my dears!

I got a very pretty finisher medal, and earned the right to wear my Black Bear shirt:

But that is pretty much the only thing I brought home this time.

What took me so long to finally tell you about it?

Well, partly I wanted there to be more of a take-home than “man, that sucked”. It did! Sucked big time! People always want to hear about the victories, right? I don’t have a single victory to tell about, except that I didn’t quit, even though I sorely wanted to. You don’t really want to hear about that, do you?

But also, the big reason I waited so long to tell about the thing is that I couldn’t figure out why. I wanted to be able to explain it, or at least try to.

Why in the world did it take me a full 12 minutes longer to do this half marathon than the last? I would like to know the answer to that, even if it’s not terribly interesting to anybody else. But without something like an answer, at least an educated guess, I’ve just got nothing useful or interesting to report.

I’ve been trying this whole time to figure out what went wrong for me that day. There were a bunch of factors that could be blamed for holding me back. I had very poor sleep, not enough to eat the day before, travel stress (do not stay at the Days Inn in Hendersonville), and a physical condition common to women that does not make running long distances very convenient. But that’s not honestly different from any other race I’ve run. I’ve always found myself at the starting line under less than optimal conditions. It’s just a fallen world, ain’t it?

Was it a mindset thing? I felt doubtful because of some lackluster runs the previous few weeks, frustrated because of a lot of non-athletic things that were coming up, angry at some folks who had really done our family a disservice, already defeated in a hundred ways before I even got there. But none of that should have held me back any more than any other time I’ve had difficulties. Usually, once I start moving, all of that disappears from my mind, and I just go. I don’t go fast, but I do go. I don’t think it was a mindset thing. When I get mad, I put on my running shoes! Physical activity makes me feel better about even the worst experiences, so I couldn’t bring mindset as an answer.

Was it my training? While I did have a little bit of a cold that kept me from training for three important weeks, it honestly wasn’t any more of a detraining than I underwent last year for much more stressful reasons. I was smart and diligent about what training I could do, and I really can’t think that poor training accounts for the absolute disaster I pulled off this year. I’m a year older, sure, but only one year. Diet didn’t change, sleep habits are good, still in very good shape for an old gal, and I don’t skip leg day. Everything should have been as good as it gets for me. I’m very confident in that.

But for some reason, I simply couldn’t go. When the time came to start running, I felt like my body didn’t even belong to me anymore. It didn’t want to do what it usually does. I couldn’t even work up a sweat! (That was actually the clue I missed. I could have saved myself if I’d realized this in-race.) In 13.1 miles, I barely was able to get my heartrate up. I just couldn’t muster a thing.

Nothing hurt. My mood was fine, except for the bewilderment. I didn’t feel tired. I didn’t have any pain. My shoes and socks were great! I just…couldn’t. I was flatter than a flitter.

Now, what happened there? Eighteen days later, I finally think I’ve figured it out.

I did a dumb, guys. I did a real boner. 

I have been in the habit of taking salt–up to a teaspoon with just a little water–before every workout for all of my keto/carnivore years. I often run with a bottle of pickle juice or electrolytes, as well as some plain water. When you run on fat, you burn through a lot more electrolytes than folks who are going through a lot of carbs first. Having enough salt on board is crucial. It has been for me, anyway. Some people don’t seem to have the same level of need that I do.

If you’ve ever read Waterlogged, by Tim Noakes, or done any other kind of research into hydration and exercise, you’ll know that your body can raise its own blood volume when you get dehydrated by releasing salt from your bones. But (and I don’t think Waterlogged expresses this at all adequately) you have to replenish that salt, or eventually your body will just say “Nope, I’m not giving up any more of my precious mineral just so you can go a minute faster per mile today. You’re staying down here on the ground with the mortals.”

As I said before, I couldn’t sweat, which meant I couldn’t safely raise my body heat. My brain just wouldn’t let me go. It wanted me to live, and I wasn’t salted up.

So, how did I get into this saltless state? I usually have a fairly high salt intake just in my food, plenty to keep me going without having to supplement. But I have always dosed extra salt when I want to stay out longer or go harder. It just saves my body having to find its own salt as I sweat. I always feel better during and after a run if I salt up.

I knew when I couldn’t even raise a sweat within the first couple of miles that this run was going to be abysmal. I’ve had a few sweatless runs like that recently. But for some reason, it has taken me this long to realize that not only had I not salted that morning, not even a little bit on my breakfast of boiled eggs, but I had not been intentionally salting for several weeks. During those weeks, as I think I alluded to in a previous post, I had seen a slight decline in my endurance, but I never even made the connection in my mind. Then when I got to the big day, I think I had just run out of sufficient stores to do what I came to do.

My last several runs at home have been equally umphless, except for the last two. The penultimate one, I had eaten a whole lot of bacon before, so that explains that. I usually go out fasted for an ordinary run, but the bacon looked good that day. Very salty.

And then there was today, a pleasant and suddenly inexplicably easy run, at my intended half-marathon pace of 11:30 for five miles. No sweat. Well, actually, a lot of sweat. But no difficulty at all!

What was different about today? Well, today I was listening to a podcast about metabolism while I was preparing for a run, and somebody said the word “salt”. I thought, “Gosh, I really oughta.” So I did. And my run felt normal again, after more than a month of frustratingly declining performance. So, there you have it. I just forgot the most basic thing I already knew about zero-carb running. I ran the last race with a bottle of pickle juice. That is a need for me. And somehow the part of my brain that took care of that need just went to sleep for a couple of months.

But, you know what? I’m never sorry.

I have asked myself if maybe it was a trip I shouldn’t have taken. If maybe I should give up. Maybe God just doesn’t want me doing this. But then I imagined having stayed home, or deciding halfway through the race to give up, or just not lining up to begin with, and you know what?

Regret is far more painful than failure.

I’m glad I kept going. I’m glad I’ve got another finish under my belt. And while I was closer to the rear of things than I wanted to be, I’m glad had a chance to pray over a gal’s injured hamstring. (She beat me to the finish line!) I got to make people laugh and feel better about their plight, similar to mine, of being several miles from the end of something that turned out to be harder than expected. I wonder if God allowed this because he wanted my prayers and my sense of humor to be there for somebody.

I will race again, friends. Next time I will do it with all the salt, and hopefully a lot better circumstances in other ways. I could be wrong about the reason this was so bad, but I really don’t think I am. It was like a light switch being flipped when I dosed the salt this morning.

I’m thinking of a half or even a whole marathon in the spring, so we’ll have opportunity to at least to test the hypothesis. Until then, thanks again so much for making that learning experience possible, friends, by giving to my gofundme. You are truly a blessing, and I pray that God returns each of your kindnesses many times over!