Fuzzy pink boas. Tiaras. Tu-tus. Shirtless men with abs of steel. Red roses. Bubbly champagne. Sparkle.

These are none of the words I would typically use to describe a race. But they are all words to describe my trip to Myrtle Beach this past weekend. I officially became a diva – albeit an unladylike one and only in the sense that I crossed the finish line at the Divas Half Marathon on Sunday.

I had big goals going into this race. My “A” goal was to run a 1:45 (1:45:59 counts), my “B” goal was to run a PR (faster than my current best time of 1:48:05) and my “C” goal was to just finish under 2 hours. (I always suggest having an A, B and C goal, especially since you can’t always control the weather, crowds or other conditions and may need to readjust mid-race. Know what your “this-would-make-me-over-the-moon-happy” stretch goal is, what you would be pleased with and what you want to do based on the worst case scenario – minus injury or something very serious happening, of course.)

I felt ready going into this race. My speed work and long runs have been stronger than they’ve ever been. I didn’t follow my training plan as closely as I could or should have, but I felt confident and ready. I tried to do all the right things within my control during race week. I had a nagging little voice in my head that was encouraging me to doubt myself, but I continued to push it out of my mind and visualize my personal victory.

The race didn’t exactly result in the run I was hoping or planning for, but it was a victory. I didn’t achieve my A goal, but I did manage a personal best time by 27 seconds.

Here’s how it all went down …

I made the 6-hour drive from Atlanta to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, on Friday. I’ve never gone to a race alone before, but I would soon find out I was far from being alone.

On Saturday, I went for an easy stroll on the beach to loosen up my legs.

I then went to the race expo. While lovely and easy to navigate, it was a zoo. I spent about 15 minutes there before fleeing to safety from the massive crowds of women in pink looking to buy sparkly, blinged out, princessy running things. I mean that in the most loving way. I promise.

Next was one of the highlights of my weekend. I met some fellow running bloggers and Twitter friends for lunch, including Kat (@katsnf) from Sneakers and Finger Paints, Monica (@runbangrun) from Run Like Hell, Melanie (@knittnerd) from Knittnerd’s Journey and Christina (@seehowwell ), along with 2 of their friends. Although Kat and I have met in real life once and I know Christina from Atlanta, it was so fun getting to know Monica and Melanie in person. It was even more fun getting to congratulate Monica and Christina for their huge PRs this weekend too!

Meeting these incredible women was another reminder of how amazing the running community is. There we were – 7 women who were from different states, with different jobs, who run different paces and probably would never have met if it weren’t for running. Our differences don’t matter in the slightest. We are united by running and by the joy, hard work, heartbreak and empowerment it brings to us in all its forms. And just like that my passion grew even more in that moment.

After lunch, I spent most of the rest of the day relaxing. I finished downloading my race day playlist, did some reading and ate a pre-race meal consisting of grilled chicken, a salty baked potato, rice, bread and a small side salad with non-fibrous veggies.

The next thing I knew, it was race morning. My alarm went off at 4:15 a.m. so I could eat a Clif Bar and banana before going back to sleep for another hour (I like to eat about 2.5 to 3 hours before a race to ensure everything is digested properly. There’s nothing more stressful than starting a race when you haven’t yet pooped. You know you agree.) I went through my race morning ritual, but added some extra inspiration for the race by writing the word “Boston” down my left arm and the initials “KM” for Kristin McQueen on my hand. My race was for them.

Since my hotel was just 1.7 miles from the race start, I walked part of the way and then used the rest of the distance to do a pre-race warm-up jog, followed by some dynamic stretching. I just discovered the song “Brave” by Sara Bareilles and played that in my ear buds before the race. During the chorus of the song, she chants over and over: “Be brave. Be brave.” I was trying to be.

With just 10 minutes to spare before the race start, I randomly found Kat and her friend Kristen, which was nice to have friends to be with as the nerves started to set in.

And then we were off!

I saw an 8-minute/mile pace group and decided that I would try to hang just behind them (my goal pace was 8:05). My first mile was 8:04, but the next miles were 7:52 and 7:55. I quickly realized that running with them was going to be faster than I needed to be going, and I wanted to try to remain consistent so I didn’t peter out at the end (I’m famous for positive splits, despite my advice to all of you).

Things did not go the way I planned them in my head.

By mile 4, I was feeling like crap … already wishing the race was just a 10K. It was 61 degrees at the start with 95 percent humidity. After training in cool temperatures with low humidity for the past few months (weather I excel in), I had certainly underestimated the humidity and how it would make me feel. I gradually started to slow …

8:07, 8:15, 8:12

I crossed the 6-mile mark in the 48-minute range. And the next 4 miles were torture. I felt like I had no energy. I ate a Honey Stinger gel at mile 4.5 and took a salt pill before the 6-mile mark. My legs started feeling like lead.

In my head I was thinking 3 things:

1. “This is easier than brain surgery.” Kristin McQueen would love for the only pain she experiences to be this.
2. The 8-year-old boy who died in Boston and his parents. This race fatigue and pain pales in comparison to what that family is going through and all the families who were affected by the bombing.
3. I have the power to reach my goals or give up. I get to decide if I’m going to let how I feel now affect what I want most. Keep going. Keep pushing. Make your move. You have the power to choose. Make the right choice.

8:17, 8:22, 8:34, 8:23. Ugh.

At mile 10, I told myself what I always tell myself at mile 10: Only a 5K to go. I can keep doing this for less than 30 more minutes. If I want to at least reach my B goal, I’ve got to kick it up a notch. Choose what you want most. Somehow I managed to do that.

8:15, 8:12, 8:12, 6:45 last 0.1

Official race time: 1:47:38 for 13.1 miles (8:13 pace) – a PR by 27 seconds! I was 88th overall and 17th in my age group.

Garmin time: 1.47:40 for 13.15 miles (8:11 pace)

I ran as fast as my legs would possibly allow me at the very end. I knew I had the choice to capture a PR or let it slip away. Nothing about this race was easy for me. I wanted to quit pretty much the entire time after mile 4. I kept trying to visualize the finish. Getting my medal. Calling my husband. Writing this post. What did I want that story to be?

I know it doesn’t seem right to run a PR and still feel a little unhappy. I firmly believe that any day when you run your best time is a great day. But I was reflecting on the fact that I know it could have been so much better. I know I have those additional 2 minutes in me. And I will prove that. I will choose.

After crossing the finish line, a person on the medical staff asked me if I was ok. (That’s how bad I must have looked.) I said yes and then sat down on a curb and peed in my pants. Ha! Yes, I really did. But I made sure to position myself in such a way that it wouldn’t get on my legs or shoes (and so no one would notice). It’s what I call a Pee-R *wink*

The post race experience was great. Hunky shirtless guys gave us our medals, and we received roses and champagne as we made our way through the finisher’s chute.

When I went to get up, my feet were hurting so bad. My arches and the soft tissue above them were on fire. Additionally, the pain in the outer part of my left foot returned with a vengeance – the same place where I feared I had a stress fracture back in March. I’m not sure what is going on with that, but I know it is not normal. I’m spending the next week in Colorado for vacation and while I will be active, I am not going to run. I am hoping it will subside and will see a podiatrist when I get back.

All in all, it was a good day. A hard day, but a good one. Every single time I race, I learn a little bit more about running and about myself. Thank you so much to all of you for your words of encouragement and support during the last few months. You kept me going too.

Have you run any of the races in the Divas Half Marathon Series? If so, what did you think? Have you ever run your best time but still felt a sense of disappointment knowing you could do more?