That Wasn't So Bad...

After waiting in a long line on an unseasonably hot Friday to pick up my race packet (and my free Drake Relays Asics running socks!), my wife and I got some dinner and headed back to our hotel (*). I drank water and tried to sleep. The sleeping didn't go particularly well, but I felt pretty good Saturday morning.

After a small breakfast of orange juice and raisin bran in the hotel lobby (where a bunch of real athletes were enjoying the free waffles), we checked out and drove over to the Drake campus. We happen across a ground-level heating vent, which kept my wife warm while I jogged around campus to warm up. During my warmup jog, I ran into Ron and Matt, the guys I work with who originally decided to run the half marathon.

About ten minutes before the race, it started to rain. As I headed for the starting line, I realized I had left my baseball cap in the car. Too late now. I kissed my wife (goodbye, or for luck?), and lined up. I retied my shoes (**). One was too tight. Loosen. Re-retie. Too loose. Snug it up. Re-re-retie. That'll do. A few steps to keep warm. Bounce on the toes. Ready to go.

Bang! The starter's pistol went off. The crowd of runners tensed, and began to wait. A few seconds later, those of us at the back could see the front of the crowd starting to move. Within a minute, I was able to start walking. About the time I crossed the starting line, I was jogging lightly, trying to move up without running over the people in front of me. I saw an opening on the outside, so I moved out and began moving up on the crowd. That turned out to be good, because that was the side my friend Lisa happened to be on. "Hi Scout!" she called. I smiled, said "hi", and kept trying to move up.

I finished the first mile at just under 11:30. I was still stuck in the crowd. Mile two took about 9:30--still crowd-limited, but better. It was somewhere around mile two or three that the leaders of the 8K started to run back past us. Most of us clapped or cheered them on. As one 8Ker passed, I overheard another runner say jealously, "boy, it'd be nice to cover twelve feet with one stride."

When I passed the 8K turnaround, things opened up a lot. I picked up the pace a bit, pacing myself by a guy wearing a jersey from a triathlon in Madison. And then things started to go downhill.

Literally. It was a long, wonderful downhill through a fairly fancy neighborhood. Once I realized I was short-stepping, I shook my head and opened up my stride. No more effort, a lot more distance. And somewhere on the downhill was a guy playing the Rocky theme from a tent by the road. Loping downhill, feeling wonderful, listening to the Rocky theme may have been one of the high points of the race.

Things start to blur after that. Some young kids sprinted along with the runners for a while. A minute of rain felt nice. A church sign had an encouraging excerpt from Hebrews 12:1-2. Downhills were good. Flat stretches felt good. Uphills weren't bad. I was feeling pain in my hips, but it was tolerable (***). The sideaches that had plagued me for weeks were staying away.

Around the 11th mile, I started to lose steam. It doesn't help that the course starts working its way upward around there. My legs were losing springiness, and my knees didn't want to straighten out all the way. But I kept going. I didn't listen to the voice that told me to walk.

Mile 12. Getting close. Then the one-mile-to-go mark. So close. Legs so uncooperative. The final turn. A gal passes me, moving fast. Says something encouraging. I reply with something encouraging (****). Finish line looks so far away. Chugging along. Passed again. Several times. Deep breath. Let's go, legs. Turn it into a flat-out run. I crossed the finish line just behind the encouraging-comment gal.

It turns out 50 degrees and slightly drizzly is pretty good weather for a 13.109 mile run. 2:05:20 from the starting gun to crossing the finish line. Ten minutes behind Matt, and about three behind Ron. Not bad for my first half-marathon, and my second "competitive" race ever.

I'd consider doing it again. But I think I'd do it barefoot. Just not barefoot and in a kilt, like one guy that ran it.

* For the record, the Merle Hay EconoLodge is pretty decent for the money. Just be warned that the free wireless internet might not work at the ends of the building.
** I'd decided to switch shoes just before leaving for the race. I suspected that the cushy shoes I'd been running in were probably partly responsible for my sore hips. The thing I was most worried about was the shoes I was switching to rubbing on the top of my foot like they had on my Jones Park run.
*** The ibuprofen I'd taken prophylactically to prevent swelling probably helped a lot with this.
**** I can't, for the life of me, remember what either comment was.