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| This year's medal. I like it. |
1. What is it with me, half marathons and rain? If you recall, I woke up early on the morning of the LaCrosse half in April 2012 to thunder, lightening and downpour. (Pre-race post: http://carsickcaravan.blogspot.com/2012/05/pre-race-checklist.html. Immediately following race post: http://carsickcaravan.blogspot.com/2012/05/half-check.html. The aftermath post: http://carsickcaravan.blogspot.com/2012/05/not-sore-and-other-surprising.html) The weather broke enough to get the half in, but race organizers cancelled the full because bad weather was going to swoop back in too quickly. Yesterday, the drizzle was sort of nice to listen to as we ran through tree canopy covered country roads. It almost sounded like there was a babbling brook following us. I'm glad I didn't stay home ... it wasn't as bad as I thought it might be.
2. It was very cool to run through my life, so to speak. We started at my Junior High School, ran out of town on one of my bus routes, traveled past the road/through the neighborhood I grew up on/in, went through the parking lot of the place my husband used to work, my sister met me at the end of her street with requested and needed ibuprofen, then we cruised past my elementary school and high school buildings, down Main Street, back behind the neighborhood I lived in until I was 4 years old, past Sentry where I used to work and finally back to Jones Park. I guess we can call that a run down Memory Lane, right? The flashbacks kept my brain busy, so I didn't have time to think too long or too hard about my knee, my blisters, the wet, etc.
3. My plan was to walk the course. Maybe throw in a run for a mile or two. But damn! It's hard to walk when everyone else is running! Throwing caution to the wind, I started running at the start line and decided I'd keep it up until it hurt too much. Then my sense came back and reminded me that I didn't train to run 13.1 and I'd never finish that way. So I adjusted my plan yet again. Run two miles, walk one, repeat. I did that cycle three times and at mile 9, I noticed that I was quickly losing steam. So, I popped some magic jelly beans, plugged in my headphones, and searched for the most fun, dance-y tunes I could find. Then I really just did intervals for the last four miles. Run a few minutes, walk a few minutes, all with a smile on my face. I'm pretty sure the people at the last water station thought I was nuts, as I boogied my way through.
4. Compared to LaCrosse, I was much less stressed about the whole thing. Knowing I was going to walk helped ... there was no pressure. When I was registering, the lady asked, "Are you running the 5K or the half?" I said, "Actually, I'm probably mostly walking the half." And a guy behind her said, "You'll still finish ahead of the people on the couch." He's right. No shame in slow. No shame in walking. It's not me vs. all those other people; it's me vs. myself.
5. This race was much smaller than LaCrosse. Far fewer people out on the course cheering. Fewer water stations and bathrooms (but still plenty). There were no pace groups to align with (not that I planned on using them anyway) and no mid-course clocks to show you split times. I did pick out two of my own pacers ... one being a 19-year-old friend of the family who was doing her first race. I kept her in my sights for the first half of the course, but ended up passing her near the halfway mark. Then I spotted a gray haired man who was at in the 65+ age group (I checked the standings today to find him/his time). We jockeyed back and forth for a while and he finally pulled ahead. My goal was to catch him. I never did, but he never got out of my sights and I thanked him for being my pacer at the end of the race. My hat is off to you, sir.
Tune in tomorrow for the thrilling conclusion ...
(That cracked me up. If you get tired of reading this shit, let me know.)
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