1. I had a full-blown meltdown on Friday night. We're talking tears streaming down my face uncontrollably, out-of-body experience type of crying. I was overwhelmingly scared. What started out as 3 people participating in the 1/2 together (my friend Shelley and her friend Heather, who is from Nashville) dwindled down to 2 as Shelley had to pull out due to a leg injury. Then Heather made the final decision on Friday to not run either because of a concussion she had suffered earlier in the week. I felt so, so alone. I wasn't able to eat anything, though I knew my body would need fuel the next day, and poor Will was stuck trying to console me when I was close to hysteria.
2. I eventually fell asleep to the sound of my own heartbeat in my ears. I would do my best to remain calm, but the thought of getting up the following morning elevated my heart rate all over again. A cycle that repeated itself for a good hour before I was able to fall asleep:
Thump...thump...thump..thump.thump.th-thump, th-thump, th-thump, th-thump, thump. thump..thump...Thump...
3. I was still nervous Saturday morning, but thankfully not in the same way I had been the night before. Will dropped me off a few blocks from the starting line and I had to walk quite a ways back to my corral.
4. It took 45 minutes from the official start time of 7 AM for my corral to make it to the starting line. By that time my freaked-out nerves had left me and I was anxious to get going. A quick prayer and I was off.
5. There were random stages set up along the race route where bands entertained as we ran by. Some bands were better than others. Note to future band participants: when one is running 13 or 26 miles, they would much rather hear upbeat, peppy tunes to lift their spirits. Jamming or playing songs similar to "Free Bird" should be avoided. I was very happy to have my iPod with me.
6. The spectator crowd wasn't as large as I expected it to be, but where they lacked in numbers, they made up for with enthusiasm. I was especially grateful to the gentlemen who had hooked up their hoses for runners to pass through, some stores who were passing out orange and grapefruit slices, the people who banged on pots and pans and who rang cowbells, the cheerleading squads who cheered loudly, and the young kids who held out their hands for a Hight Five as we passed by.
7. The Signs. There were certainly some good ones. Ones that stuck out in my mind:
- If it were easy, they would have called it "Your Mom"
- Embrace the Suck- This is That Hill (and it was "That Hill"...and it did indeed suck)
- Chafe Now; Brag Later
- Run Like You Stole Something
- Winning.
- Marathon: Not As Easy As Your Girlfriend
- Y'all are Crazy!
8. Tutus. They were everywhere. I don't really understand why people wore them, but lots of ladies did. I was also surpised to see a couple of bachelorette-looking groups on the course. Those are very good friends, those women who ran 13-some miles with the bride-to-be!
9. I felt tremendous highs and lows during the run. The first few miles were easy, fun, exciting, enjoyable. The next 3 weren't quite as great, but still tolerable. I looked forward to passing the 10K mark. Just past mile 6 is where things started to go downhill for me. The hills became larger and more looming, the fan support was more sporadic, and I just hit a wall. A part of the race went through a narrow residential street (and it was uphill- go figure). Most people were walking up the hill, and while I felt good enough to run, I didn't want to waste my energy "bobbing and weaving" through the crowd, so I walked with them. That decision wasn't the best one of the day: I lost time and had a harder time starting up again than if I had just run on the grass around the masses.
10. I was fixated on how badly I needed chapstick during the race. Twice. It occupied my thoughts for about 5 miles. I really, truly, could think of nothing else. Not how tired I was, not that my throat was dry and I needed some water, not that I should have worn sunscreen...nothing. I only had very vivid fantasies of applying layer after layer of Burt's Bees to my lips. Thankfully, around mile 7 there was a medical station set up and a volunteer was holding up a stick with vaseline on it. I swiped some of it, smeared it on my lips, and felt ready to conquer the world after that. Until about mile 9, when the vaseline disappeared from my lips and I had the same obsessive thoughts again until just after mile 11 when I came across another medical station. Thank God for vaseline.
11. I was really, really happy to see Will, Shelley, Heather, and T just after I passed the 10 mile mark, especially because I didn't expect to see them until the finish line. I saw them before they saw me, and my spirits lifted immediately. I appreciated the crowd support that I had encountered during the previous 10 miles, but there is nothing like seeing people who are specifically there to cheer you on. It was the one time during the race where I felt a bit emotional.
12. The last mile flew by, yet seemed to drag on at the same time. Part of the problem, for me at least, is that I was running on familiar turf. The beginning and end of the race happened to be the areas where I did most of my training. So while I knew the end was near, I also knew exactly how far away it was. But I could feel the adrenaline kick in for the last 1/4 mile as I neared the finish line. I expected to have an emotional breakdown as I crossed the finish line, but it was rather anti-climatic. I just remember feeling so very happy that I was done. But I didn't shed any tears. I found it funny that I actually got teary-eyed watching other racers cross the finish line. Empathetic feelings, perhaps?
13. After I finished, my immediate thought was "one and done". I didn't love every second of the race- it was really hard to keep going during certain parts. I didn't get that "runners' high" feeling- at least I didn't recognize it at the time. I felt nothing but relief that it was over. I didn't expect to enjoy it, though. I was participating so that I could say I've run a 1/2 marathon, and so I would know for sure that I never want to do one again. On Saturday afternoon, all I could think about were the bad parts of the race and how hard it was. After having a couple days to recover, however, the "good" feelings are there now, too. I'm proud of what I accomplished. Never in a MILLION years would I consider myself a runner. But I guess I am now.
Do I love it? Not always. But does it feel good to get out there some days and hit the pavement? Absolutely. Will it feel strange to not have to run 3 times a week from now on? Definitely. Am I excited to get back out there and start running again? Ask me in a couple weeks. :) The word "sore" has a new meaning to me since Saturday. I am sore like I never thought possible.
Am I frustrated that, while my only goal for my first 1/2 marathon was simply to finish, I missed my "target" finish time by 70 seconds? You betcha I am. Which leads to...
13.1. Maybe, just maybe I'll have to sign up for my second 1/2 marathon. But not for quite a few months. And in a nice flat, hill-free town.
