My first ever ½ marathon invoked various emotions, most of which involved great joy and gratitude. Even though sickness and travel arrangements got in the way, I felt and knew support from all over the world for which I am utterly grateful. A support team is always fun, but I never realized how important until I stepped up to the line with 21,000 of my closest friends.
I woke up early and couldn’t fall back to sleep, as I had read the night before in a running magazine. The author’s suggestion was to get up, so I did and ate. The weird thing about running so far is no amount of energy is left unused. So while I had a large pasta dinner the night before, I knew without a relatively substantial breakfast, I might not make it to see lunch, at least not one of solid foods. With about an hour before the start, I made my way to the start line. I passed the first corner of the marathon race where the elite runners sprinted around. Again, for a sprinter myself come to participate in such a long distant event, I was overwhelmed by their quickness. But I didn’t need to fret over the pace as I saw Elvis in white spandex come dancing by and mom, dad, grandma and grandpa all joining in the race. Some people were already walking less than 800 m from the start. To each his own; being in the race is impressive enough.
I waited in the outhouse line. It’s a must. A) for the experience of standing with hundreds of other people to get rid of that last bit of breakfast or coffee before it escaped from lack of control B) well covered it. About 7 gals in front of me all looked like they had come out of the same pink polyester outlet store but none of them knew each other. Racers line up by estimated finish times so I was in corral 5 out of at least 25 hoping to come across at 1:57. The gun went off and we trotted forward, corral-by-corral until the wave surged over the start line. I had been instructed to go slow the first mile and make it up at the end. “It’s all about math,” which is true. 9 min. miles give me about a 1:57 race time. So would a 10 min first mile and 8 min last mile. Well, I came across at 8:22 and realized I either better slow down or keep a steady pace for another 12.1 miles. I decided the latter idea sounded more exciting and so for the rest of the race I ran a sub 9 min mile averaging 8:38. Numbers are immaterial to most, but if you like math, have fun.
Highlights along the race.
The start: I rocked out to the Glee soundtrack dancing a little and singing all the while finding my pace and running buddies to chase or pass.
Mile 3 and 4: I hurt. That’s no good. I still had 10 miles to go so early on I had to dig in.
Mile 6.5: My legs wanted to slow down so out came the raisins. Everyone has their own way to refuel, essential for long races, but I found raisins to be the best for me. At least they’re great when I’m not running in sub-freezing weather when they become hard.
Mile 8: My favorite marker. I even did a bit of a jump, booster step. I had 5 miles left. That’s less than 45 minutes. I CAN DO IT!
Mile 12.8: Kick it baby….
Mile 13: Really kicked it. I passed quite a few people and finished the race in 1:53:04.
Post-race: My legs and knees cried, maybe screamed. It’s hard to tell under so much sweat and twitching muscle. They certainly weren’t happy campers, but a little ice and a nap seemed to calm everything down a bit. I could have done a better recovery but the attempt at a running cool down just reminded me that such activity was off the “things to do” list at least for 48 hrs. Thankfully I get to rejuvenate in the pool tomorrow.
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