I picked up my bib on Friday afternoon and met the husband for drinks with his co-workers downtown afterward. I had a few beers and then convinced him to go to dinner closer to our house where we continued to drink even more PBR. At some point in time I realized it was a bad idea to be drinking so much the night before my next half marathon and pounded some water while we listened a fairly decent cover band at Willy B's. I finished the night with a Zonker Stout before finally heading home to download a few new songs to my iPod and call it a night.
The morning had an early start; although I set 2 alarms to be sure I didn't oversleep, I woke up 30 minutes before either of them went off. I got my gear together and had plenty of time to lube up with Body Glide and have a cup of coffee. I had plans to meet my dear friend, Renee, at her house to hitch a ride to the start from her with Mike and Mitch at 7:30 that morning. We left her place in plenty of time to get to the start line at Lucky Peak but got detoured due to unknown road construction. We rolled up to the start line around with just enough time for Mike and Mitch to get their bibs and only a few minutes to spare.
Pre-race: No time for jitters!
Unfortunately, there was not enough time for me to get through the port-a-potty lines prior to the start and I started the race having to use the facilities. Though not ideal, I decided to run to the first aid station and use a port-a-potty there. The problem: the first aid station only had 2 port-a-potties and there was a line of about 3 or 4 people waiting to use them and there was no way I was going to wait that long. I pushed through the folks standing around at the aid station (there may have been a lot of loud sighs from me about them standing on the course) and hoped there would be another port-a-potty nearby. There wasn't. In fact, there really weren't many at all throughout the race. Race officials must have been relying on people being willing to use the public facilities off course throughout the race. No thanks.
Remember how I posted about not being sure if I wanted to run with my Garmin or not? Well, I got an e-mail from Adam (aka The Boring Runner) basically telling me it would be a bad idea to run without it (I believe he said, "race like you train!") so I listened.
There I am, in the background!
I maintained between a 10:20 and 10:30 pace through the first 6 miles or so, which I thought was too fast but I felt good so I kept on moving. The problem: I still had to go to the bathroom and despite my constant looking for a good place to squat, there just wasn't anywhere to go.
Not much happened until about mile 9 when I came up on a gal who seemed to be keeping a very similar pace. I made a comment about how I didn't expect it to be so hot. She agreed. We chatted about races and this being her first half and this being my seventh and our time goals for the race (me: anything faster than 2:25; her: anything between 2:15 and 2:30). We ran together for about 1/2 mile before she started to walk again. I wished her luck and continued on.
Somewhere between miles 10 and 11 things started to get real for me. Just before the aid station in that area I saw a parent of a kid on my caseload waiting to cheer on his wife (I knew she was also running the half). He saw me and said something like, "Miranda! Only 2 miles left and still smiling!" It was pretty great to see a familiar face on the course as a trudged along.
**UPDATE 5/22/12 - I saw this client's parent today and it wasn't him. Now I have no idea who yelled this out to me...perhaps I was just delirious and imagining things, which his highly possible...
I continued on the Greenbelt and a group of men passed me going the opposite direction. I heard my name again and for the life of me couldn't figure out who would have been running the opposite direction since most of the guys I know were running the same race as me. I figured out later it was my buddy, Lance, who is training for the Ironman 70.3 - what a badass!
Right around that same time I took a look at my watch and realized I was at mile 11 in 1:59. I almost started crying on the spot because I realized I had a really good chance at finishing with a huge PR.
The turn off for the half-marathoners at mile 12 was one of the best parts of the race. A teenage gal as there telling the marathoners to go straight and yelled out, "half marathoners, turn here and get your butt running over that bridge to the finish line!!!"
So I did.
As I neared the finish line, I saw Renee and Mike's girls waiting at the finish line (sorry, Mike and Mitch, I didn't see you there). I rounded the corner and ran the last 10th of a mile at an average pace of 8:11; I was obviously ready to be done.
I finally crossed the finish line, stopped my Garmin and looked down to see 2:21. And I wanted to cry again. I meandered through the chute, got my medal, and contemplated hugging a stranger because I was SO. DAMN. HAPPY! Instead, I waited until Renee, Mitch, Mike, and his girls approached. Mike was the closest and as he asked how it went, I nearly attacked the poor guy (since he was closest) with a fully body hug and informed them all that I PR'd by 6 minutes.
Six. Glorious. Effing. Minutes.
I cried and laughed and cried again. I think the picture proves it.
Mitch, Miranda, Mike - tears of happiness!
In the end, my Garmin read 2:21:13 and I'm still on cloud 9 from my huge PR!
Beer, is there anything it CAN"T do?!?!
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