I. DID. IT!
I ran a half marathon. The whole thing. 13.1 miles.
I haven't written much - if anything - in 2014, though I resolved to blog my training and race prep sometime back in January. So much for such resolutions.
But today, post-run, I'm feeling like I should make an attempt to remember some of the small details of yesterday, so here it is: my breakdown by mile of my half marathon experience.
Training for the Insanity. This is where it really all begins. My cousin decided she was going to run the Rock 'n' Roll Half Marathon in Dallas. And so I said I would, too. I paid for it in early January. And once you pay for the race, especially an expensive race, there's no backing out.
Then for twelve weeks, I trained. Sort of. I followed a plan I found online. Two days off a week, five days running. That sounded doable. Back in 2008, I read a book titled The Nonrunner's Marathon Guide for Women: Get Off Your Butt and On with Your Training (you can check it out here on Amazon) and was inspired by the humorous approach to this whole running-for-an-ungodly-amount-of-time thing. But I never have really had any desire to run 26.2 miles… no offense, of course, to those who have such desires. 13.1 seemed much more my cup of tea.
In my training, I met some obstacles. I switched to a different pair of shoes that pretty much destroyed my knees in the first few weeks, for one, and I found that the more I ran on my long run Sundays, the longer it took me to recover during the week, meaning I cut out two of my three weekly run days completely and opted for the elliptical and weight training instead. But training was okay… I survived ten miles on my longest run, had energy to spare, and was convinced I was crazy but prepared.
The Day before the Insanity. My family accompanied me to Dallas. We went down the day before, and my stomach was in horrible shape. I know that our bodies know what to do and do what they should to prepare for such things - like childbirth or running two plus hours straight - and my body was in full prep mode, let me tell you. If you ever wonder, the QuikTrip on 380 at I35 in Denton has really nice facilities as far as gas stations go. The Omni's facilities are considerably nicer, of course, but that's to be expected, right?
I had a glass of wine with lunch to calm down, and it helped ease my nerves, if that's what was causing it all. Plus, the Expo was cool, and I got one of those car stickers that says 13.1 because that's the most important part of running the whole half: getting to advertise it on my car!
I also made out with some pretty awesome gifts from my family. Thanks, guys!
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Morning Insanity. I'm a little bit OCD in many areas of my life, and so, even though the run didn't start until eight, I set my alarm for six. I had everything ready: my high protein almonds and protein bar for breakfast; my timing thing attached to my shoes; my bib with safety pins on it, ready to attach to my shirt; and my clothes all laid out in the bathroom, where I got ready quietly to avoid waking the family. My cousin, who inspired me to sign up for this in the first place, texted at 7:08 that she and her friend would meet me at the elevators, so I shimmied out of my long sleeved shirt (which I'd had on and off at least twice already) and headed out the door.
A minute later I slipped back through the door to find my sunglasses. I couldn't, so I gave up and went without them.
Two minutes later, after meeting the ladies at the elevators, I returned for the long sleeved shirt I wasn't sure if I needed or not.
Then, we were off to the lobby to wait.
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| Waiting in the lobby… the shirt and armband shenanigans in the lobby hadn't begun yet. Oh, and I'm on the left. |
That's the part I hate the most about any run, no matter the distance. I hate waiting for the start. I want to run when I want to run… I hate anticipating.
So in the lobby, I talked a lot (because I was nervous) and I took my shirt on and off a few more times. I put my arm band with phone in it on under the shirt and over the shirt. Then I pulled it off again and tried to get my phone out because I wanted to take pictures. Then it was bathroom break time, and I got a text… at this point, my phone was under my long sleeved shirt as I tried to figure out how I was going to wear it (these are all really big decisions, right?).
I'm positive my cousin and her friend think I'm a lunatic.
And with twenty minutes to race start, we headed out to join the other "half nuts" runners (see picture above for explanation) in our designated corral.
Waiting for Insanity to Start. I don't know what I was thinking this would be like… I don't know that I had a clear picture in my mind, but I was blown away by the grandeur of it all.
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| Still about five corrals from the start |
First, the bodies on these elite runners were amazing. The ones warming up as we walked across from the hotel lobby toward the starting line were incredible. Not an ounce of fat on them. Just chiseled, beautiful muscle. I saw more than one pair of legs that just had me in awe. I wish I had pictures of these runners!
Second, the amount of people was incredible. I think there were about 9,600 runners total, and to see them all gathered there in their best running gear - compression socks in all shades, crazy hair or wigs, chevron skirt and bra sets, teeny, tiny shorts. It was crazy. We were in corral thirteen of sixteen - I estimated my finish time at 2:30 - so we got to walk by quite a few people before we found our place in the starting line.
And third, I wasn't prepared for the anticipation I'd feel. I wasn't annoyed that we were having to countdown and wait, like I sometimes get at the start of 5Ks when I just want to get started and get it over with; I was sick to my stomach nervous.
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| Facebook post as evidence |
Lots of thoughts were going through my head. I thought about my heart, wondering if it was strong enough for something like this (doomsday scenarios ran through my mind!); I worried about my knees, which were feeling a little weak; I wondered about my stomach and if my marathon pooping sessions might return.
I started my music and stopped it again, several times actually, worried that RunKeeper and my music might kill my phone before I could finish and find my family. I finally decided yes to RunKeeper, no to music, and I wound my earbuds up and put them away...
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| Amy, Shelli, and me! |
The Insanity Begins. And then the announcer asked if Corral Thirteen was ready to get started, and it was our turn to begin. Right out of the corral, someone tripped and fell. I looked over and thought, crap, that could have been me. If anyone could fall in this run, at the beginning, it would be me. But I stayed on my feet and even dodged a water bottle that came rolling toward me a few minutes later.
The race route took us right by the grassy knoll and across the Xs that marked where JFK was shot as his car traveled along the downtown Dallas road. I heard a few people beside me talking about it as we started. It was a cool morning, around 50 degrees, with about sixteen mile an hour winds, but with the buildings surrounding us, it wasn't too bad. And I was feeling good in that first mile.
Mile Two. Somewhere between the first and second mile markers, a live band was playing, and that was a fun addition to the run, considering I'd decided against music. I'm not sure what I was thinking when I made that decision, and it took me only about thirteen minutes to realize music would have been a good idea, even if my battery did die.
I was surprised, too, to see that there was already a line waiting at the first port-a-potty station between miles one and two. Who needs to pee after one mile? Or maybe those were cases of nervous belly! I'm glad mine happened the day before, then.
Mile Three. A great amount of mile three was uphill. A coworker, who had run the Rock 'n' Roll Dallas before, assured me that it was relatively flat… that is, compared to Fort Worth's CowTown. So when we started climbing that first incline, I was wondering how our definitions of flat could differ so greatly. I probably started out too fast, honestly, because I was struggling at the end of three miles, wondering how one major incline could make this seem like the longest 5K in the world.
Miles Four and Five. At some point, we moved out of downtown and into a residential area… one of the nicest residential areas I'd ever seen. The houses were humungous with cars with emblems I didn't even recognize in the drives. And the scenery was a nice distraction to the fact that my right hip flexor was feeling tight.
Somewhere in this stretch I decided I should chew my little Gatorade chewy thing that was supposed to give me energy. I tend to be pretty clumsy, so I have to balance watching where I step and keeping my eyes on the horizon instead of the road in front of me. But I had been noticing, for a mile or so, discarded little chews like the one I was carrying. I had two on me, just in case, and I kept seeing random ones dropped and forgotten along the course. I thought, awh, I hope that person had another one every time I saw one because I just imagined that being the last little energy buddy that runner had. Then, I started wondering just how they had been dropped. I mean, how hard can it be to get the chew from the package in your hand to your mouth?
Well, I found out when I tried to put mine in my mouth. A combination of factors - movement, cold hands, sticky chewy thing - probably kept those discarded ones from reaching their destinations, which is exactly what happened when I fumbled with the first one of my two. My fat fingers couldn't grip it, and it slipped right to the course beneath my feet. I glanced back, watching it land and stick, and muttered damnit, but inside I was thinking, awh, I'm so glad I have another!
It was here, too, that I decided I really did need my music. So, knowing what state my fingers were in, I fumbled absently with the earbuds, trying to get them unwound. It was easier than I anticipated. My phone has the "shake to shuffle" feature, which I forgot to turn off, so I shuffled through a few Tangled and Frozen songs before settling on something from one of the Twilight soundtracks. Obviously, I forgot to get around to downloading a run mix like I meant to.
Mile Six. I chewed my little energy thing and was almost instantly overcome with an insatiable thirst. (Not to mention I have extremely sensitive teeth, and that stupid little chew was like those Swiss Fish candies, sticking to my teeth!) I thought, we haven't had water in a while… surely there is water soon. But there wasn't. I couldn't see any coming up… let me tell you, mile six, with no water and stupid gummy stuff stuck in my teeth, was not a very fun mile. Oh, yeah. And it was uphill, too.
Mile Seven. The RnR half has a relay option, and the handoff was happening at Mile Seven, which was good news because I figured that meant water. I was wrong. What looked like it might have been a water station was packing up… discarded cups were being swept into bags and tables were being broken down. Seriously? Where is the water?
Maybe it was just to tease me - yes, me, personally - but the water was just around another corner, and it really helped me feel refreshed in what was turning out to be the worst part of the thirteen miles.
Mile Eight. At some point between miles six and eight, which I'm pretty sure were all uphill, my determination and focus started to wane. I didn't want to be running thirteen miles anymore. I didn't care that I'd been training for it. I didn't care that I would be able to mark it off my bucket list. I didn't care. I saw cars passing on my left, and I wanted to be in one of them. I wanted to be watching college basketball. I wanted to be grading papers. But I really, really, really did not want to be running.
And then my saving grace appeared in the form of a middle aged man wearing a red shirt and jeans. I can't even remember which group he was representing, but he shouted, "Runners, you've got this! Two more inclines and then it's downhill for two and a half to three miles!" And I could have jumped for joy! I think I even picked up the pace, excited to get to those downhill miles.
About this point, too, I saw three service men cheering us on, and I paused in my wallowing to thank them; their presence gave me inspiration as I realized just how inconsequential what I was doing truly was compared to what they do on a daily basis.
And then I read a motivational sign that said, "This is still easier than labor and delivery." So true, I thought, and gave the family a thumbs up. I gave birth to two seven pound babies! I can do this!
Mile Nine. I'd been noticing for some time a man in a yellow jacket on a bike. He kept appearing, out of breath, on the side of the street. He'd look through the runners… but it was a long time before he finally spotted her. I don't know if she was his wife or girlfriend. Maybe she was just a friend. But he faithfully followed her the entire time on his bike, snapping pictures along the way. I think it was mile three when I first noticed him… but mile nine was the first time I was able to figure out just who he was following. It made my heart happy.
Mile Ten. At mile ten, I was really in need of water again. But Gatorade sounded really nice, too. (As a matter of fact, there'd been no Gatorade stations as of yet.) Ahead of me, people were veering right, and I was excited because that meant water! But it turned out to be a station of promotional gel goo stuff, like the chews. I took my chances with one. (I know, I know! The "try nothing new on race day" advice was going through my mind as I tore the top and squeezed a tiny bit of the stuff in my mouth.) It was strawberry kiwi, and it wasn't bad… just sort of weird. I don't know if it did anything or not. Luckily, a station of Gatorade and water was up next, and I grabbed three cups total. I was desperate for it.
Between miles ten and eleven, I saw some of the funniest signs of the race. I'd seen in some of the prep articles I'd read that the signs were really inspirational and humorous… a great part of the run. For the first half, I only noticed a few that made me smile. There was the "Worst. Parade. Ever." one and "Where's everyone going?" One said, "Great stamina. Call me." And there were some variations on what does the fox say… run, run, run, run, run. Some others promised that Ryan Gosling and Bradley Cooper were at miles twelve and thirteen, respectively… but my favorite was probably a simple one, colored by someone's little one, that said, "My momma is awesome!"
Oh, yeah… and that three mile downhill trek that was promised back at mile eight had begun at some point here, so I was happy again.
Mile Eleven. When I saw the marker for mile eleven, I was officially into territory I'd never visited. In my training, I'd only accomplished ten at once due to an upper respiratory infection that kept me down for a few weeks. At this point, too, my left big toe started feeling like it was going to fall off. That, or my toenail was peeling off. Either way, it was hurting. But I wasn't going to quit. I kept seeing people step off for the potty or to stretch. It was tempting to take my shoe off and see what was going on. But really, what could I do in the middle of the run with my injured toe? Most likely, if I stopped, I would have trouble making my knees start again… and then I'd have to limp the rest of the way in. Besides, I promised myself I'd run the whole thing. The. Whole. Thing. So I tried to ignore my toe.
Instead, I focused on counting what I hoped was tenths of a mile. My RunKeeper was turned down, so I wouldn't be focusing on my pace, so I was forced to guess… I think this is one-tenth of mile eleven and this must be two-tenths… and like this I ran the eleventh mile.
Mile Twelve. To say I was ecstatic at mile twelve would be an understatement. I might have been delusional at this point, but when I saw that marker with the glorious number twelve on it, I picked up the pace. My husband and kids were waiting one-point-one miles away. I can do anything for a mile. Anything. ANYTHING! I mean, a mile at my normal pace is only ten minutes. And ten minutes is nothing… (You can really see how running long distances is as much mental as it is physical.)
I was on the fair grounds, where the finish line was, and rounding a corner when the mile thirteen marker came into sight. I could have cried. And to add to my already emotional state, I heard a little girl, probably ten or eleven, call out, "You got this, Daddy! You're so close!" It was like she was cheering for me, too!
Mile Thirteen. Or the Point One, I guess. A whole lot is going on at the finish line of a race. People are on all sides of the stretch just before the finish line, runners come out of nowhere from behind you as they sprint to the finish, and people are coaxing you forward from beyond the finish line with goodies in their hands. It was a whirlwind of confusion for someone who has never run an event of this magnitude.
Whatever it is in your mind that allows you to mentally overcome your body's weaknesses holds on until that finish line. Then, all bets are off and you are on your own. I didn't cry, like I thought I might, but I was overcome with this extreme sense of accomplishment. My barriers were all down, and it was time to sit and relish the fact that I had just run for two and a half hours, by my best guess.
Someone gave me my finisher's medal and another person snapped my picture. I know I was grinning ear to ear. Then, people started pushing things into my arms - water, Gatorade, chocolate milk (WHOLE chocolate milk, uhh… yum?!), pretzels, a protein bar, a Jersey Mike's sandwich, an ice/heat pack, more water, a banana, a bagel, a wrap to keep me warm. I couldn't carry it all, and I didn't see anyone I knew, and the excitement I felt at finishing left as quickly as it came, leaving me just completely overwhelmed. It is amazing how the emotions I held in check for two and a half hours rushed out and left me physically and emotionally spent in a matter of minutes.
In the end, after I found my family, got much-deserved hugs and kisses, and snapped some pictures, I had some time to reflect on everything this run taught me:
- Running uphill is probably my least favorite thing in the world.
- If you want to know your mile splits, leave your dang armband and phone alone during the run! (When I turned my music on, I inadvertently paused RunKeeper and didn't know it.)
- A famous mom mantra is to always wear clean underwear… well, I would argue that the type of underwear you wear is equally important. Chafing is real and can occur anywhere!
- Our minds are incredible, powerful tools, and if we have the right mindset, we can get through just about anything.
- Long-distance running is not for me or my knees. I'm incredibly glad I did it, but I think I can stick to three to five miles a day and be content.
- I have some amazing family and friends, who kept me motivated from training to the finish line. Thank you, all!
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| My girlies and me |
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| Me and my honey |
