A marathon: part one

I had no idea!  Really, someone should have told me what that was going to be like.  Or maybe not, because I might have rethought this whole marathon in two parts thing.  I don't think I would ever do another one if I wasn't already registered for it.  I'm hurting!  But maybe it's because I only realized I would be able to run this half marathon at the beginning of October, or because the farthest I've ever run before was eight miles, which does not prepare one for thirteen miles.  Either way, here's my recap, with images dispersed in between.

Pre Race: Nervous. Anxious. Freezing because the sun is not up yet. I go inside and stretch until it's time to get lined up.

Mile one: Okay, let's do this! I got my tunes going, I'm warmed up, the start gun went off... now I just have to wait 28 minutes until my section gets to actually start running. Once I get going, I realize that either the people around me are faster than they think or I grossly overestimated my pace because I am getting passed like crazy.

Mile two: Oops, my pants are too big! They keep sliding down so I stop to tie them up. People are warming up fast.  there are fleeces and jackets and gloves along the side of the road. Not me, my fingers are still chilly so I have my gloves on and my hand covers from my pull over on top of those.  Burrr!

Mile three: We hit Ross Ave. I can see the top of the First United Methodist Church where Pres and I got married up the road. I can see the Fairmont, which is where we all stayed. I remember walking across Ross Ave. with Pres to the Dallas Museum of Art on the way to our reception. I know the route is going to turn right before I get there, but it is a nice reminder.

Mile four: Turning on to McKinney Ave, one of my favorite parts of Dallas. Pres and my parents are somewhere between mile four and five... I wonder if I can just stop running when I see them and go home because my hip is hurting. I spot them right away, but they are on the other side of the road so I can't stop to say hi. Guess I'll just have to keep going.

Mile five: I've finally started warming up and I'm glad that I bought the running gloves with the little clasp that hooks onto my pants, which no longer feel too big because they are stuck to my sweaty legs.

Mile six: I'm starting to fantasize about riding to the finish in a golf cart. I need to find some little kids to high five. I smell hamburgers and decide that I'm eating a big fat juicy burger when I finish.

Mile seven: I'm doing a lot of walking; my hip is really sore. I'm scared that I'm going to tear Sadie again (Sadie is the name I gave my left sartorius muscle when I tore it several months ago).

Mile eight: I started eating little pieces of the Coconut Cream Pie Larabar in my pocket a few miles ago; I'm waiting for that to kick in.  Some lady just "pulled" up beside me and said she had been admiring my pull over for a few miles. This is the second complement I've received on my top during the half marathon.  Yeah, I'm gross and sweaty and I still get compliments. That's right.

Mile nine: Pres is waiting for me at the end of mile nine. I stop and walk with him for a few blocks, making sure he knows to get me to a burger stat when we're done. I realize that my lungs hurt when I try to talk. This is a much needed break.

Mile ten: Sadie doesn't feel sore anymore, so I've told myself no more walking until I finish.

Mile eleven: I'm passing people! And I have good songs on my playlist that are pushing me through. I'm singing out loud (but softly so no one hears me!)

Mile twelve: Still going strong; still passing people. I'm running behind a woman who has some kind of handicap; it looks like her legs are only moving from the knees down. She's faster than me! If she can this, then so can I.

Mile thirteen: This is a long mile. I keep thinking the end is right around the corner... there it is! No, that's a chop shop. Oh, there it is!  Wait, that a used car sales banner.  Oh, THERE it is! No, that's just the mile 1 marker... does that mean mile thirteen hasn't even started yet? But when I finally do see the finish banner, I get excited. And as I'm approaching, I see myself on a big monitor. I don't look so bad running, especially for someone that couldn't run a month and a half ago. When I cross the finish line, they call out Nacogdoches (and pronounce it correctly) and my name (and pronounce it correctly, too) and I'm done. I'm done!

Post Race: I pass the people with the tacky trash bag blankets because I'm hot and I don't think I need one. As I'm walking toward the food and water tables, I start to feel like I'm going to pass out and that I may end up on a golf cart anyway. I grab a metal, a shirt, two bananas and two glasses of water and head outside to find Preston. When I find him, I realize that I'm freezing. I immediately regret my decision to not get an awesome trash bag blanket, but we get my soaking-wet-yet-still-looks-good pull over off and Pres' gives me his fleece. When we get to the car, we notice that my calfs look like little nerf footballs and I can't stop laughing...

 I think I'm delirious. And what do we do? We go to the Burger Bar and eat big gross cheeseburgers with sweet potato fries and drink fat tires, even though I'm allergic to all of those things. And then I sleep for two days. The end... or to be continued in part two of "A Marathon in Two Parts" which hits March 2011.