That Time I Ran a Half Marathon

Last Saturday I ran my first half marathon.

{This is what wide feet look like in not-wide shoes} 

When I signed up for the race, I knew that the weather could range anywhere from do-you-want-to-build-a-snowman to pass-the-SPF-5,000.

April in Utah? Unpredictable at best.

The weather over the past few weeks has been beautiful and warm. Hot, even. So as the event grew closer, I imagined it being sunny and toasty. I had my clothes picked out - black tee, black running skirt. I was starting to question the black tee because it might be too hot.

Then I started watching the ten-day forecast like a hawk.

Being a fan of cooler temperatures, I was happy when the forecast began to drop. After a few days, there became a slight chance of rain. Then a slightly bigger chance of rain. Then an oh-my-heck-it's-really-going-to-rain chance of rain (also known as 90% chance).

But I was not afraid!

In fact, I felt better suited for a cold, rainy run than a warm, sunny run since I spent all winter training.

On the day of the race, I sported a capri/skirt combo (also known as a scooter, as Amy and Becky have taught me) and a long-sleeved running shirt (the well-known Costco one that everyone who has ever burned a calorie in their lives purchased last year) (mine happens to be pink). I also wore a visor to shield my eyes from the rain, put my hair in a bun, and topped off the look with a garbage bag.

{This is my half marathon face}

I ran with my friend Jennifer. I imagine that we stood out a little because everywhere we went, we went together in matching garbage bags. I daydream about all of the other runners referring to us in their minds as, "Those garbage bag girls!"

Okay, okay, we may have accidentally shown up in matching neon yellow fanny packs as well.

And Jen has the teal version of the Costco shirt.

But at least we wore different head gear!

At the starting line, I was surprisingly calm. The crowd was a manageable size for me (I have severe crowd aversion and shut down around masses of people, so I was expecting to start off the race hyperventilating, but I was pleasantly surprised) (575 people).

Thus began 13.1 miles of good, bad, and ugly.

The good...

I didn't even notice until I looked at the route later that the first two miles were uphill.

For most of the race we were able to stick by the pacer that was 10 minutes ahead of our estimated time.

I felt awesome for the first half (of the half).

The scenery as beautiful - a river, a golf course, and a tulip garden.

I didn't throw up (this was good news because I got really sick after our 12-mile training run two weeks earlier).

The last-minute changes to my fuel routine (which I didn't have time to train with) worked out well and didn't land me in a Honey Bucket.

I ran the whole route (other than walking through aid stations to prevent Powerade spills).

We crossed the finish line 7 minutes ahead of our strategically planned goal.

The bad...

It rained the entire time.

Around mile 8 I started to feel very cold, wet, and inconvenienced by the rain.

My capris were so soaked that the weight of the water in my skirt made my pants fall down below my butt repeatedly.

My hands were so frozen that I couldn't maneuver my fingers well-enough to pull my pants back up (my gloves were soaked through at mile 6, so I stashed them in a Ziploc in my super cool neon yellow fanny pack). This became a huge source of frustration.

My wet shoes became very uncomfortable around mile 9.

The last half (of the half) had quite a few short but steep hills that beat the crap out of me.

The ugly...

I became mentally unstable during the last 5 miles and may have told Jennifer that she was... ahem... pissing me off.

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When we finally (finally!) approached the finish line, I almost started bawling. It was some strange emotional concoction of joy and anger.

Joy that I did it!

And anger that it sucked so bad!

{The finish is in sight}

After the race I was in quite a hurry to get into some dry clothes. Nothing sounded better! I chugged a small chocolate milk and tried to look happy in a few photos with Jennifer:

Then we hobbled to the car to get our stuff and hobbled back to the bathroom. My time in that stall was almost as challenging as the race had been. I could hardly move, let alone pull my dry clothes onto my wet, frozen body.

Photo conditions were pretty poor, so after I changed, I had Scotty snap a couple more pictures. This is what I acted like:

{Woo! Look at my medal and my rockin' widow's peak!}

And this is what I felt like:

{I am going to DIE!!! Please dye my roots for my burial!}

I was quite sore for the rest of the day, but it was the good kind of sore. The I-worked-hard kind of sore. I felt a little like I'd been forced against my will to kneel on ice for three hours then stand up and get kicked in the knee caps by pre-teen boys. But I earned that horrible knee cap sensation!

Now I can cross off one of my New Year's resolutions: run a half marathon before June.

This is something I never ever thought I would be able to do. I guess I'm capable of more than I ever imagined!