It's October, so you'd think I'd be in the clear, but nope. Texas hates me!
We got some great temps during the week last week, and the last two mornings have been spectacularly perfect running weather. But Sunday morning? 70s and 100% humidity with the threat of thunderstorms. Also? Race Day!
For crying out loud.
Of course, I conveniently forgot that on the same exact weekend last year, I ran a half marathon in Central Texas, in the same exact weather conditions. And it was my second worst road half marathon finish ever. Fun times.
But, being the badass that I believe myself to be this year, that wasn't going to stop me from running that damn race. Was I going for a PR? OH HELL NO. The race course was 900 feet of elevation gain over 20 different hills and inclines, so a PR was a long shot anyway, plus I had decided running that far under my marathon pace for nearly two hours probably wasn't a wise choice. The weather made that decision much much easier to take.
The plan, after careful consideration and lots of feedback from friends, became pretty comical actually.
NO WATCH.
WEAR A COSTUME.
FIND A CHALLENGING PACE, BUT NOT TOO CHALLENGING.
MAKE IT A TRAINING RUN.
SCREW THE WEATHER.
HAVE FUN.
That, my friends, is exactly what I did! I showed up to that miserable race in all the damn colors. Rainbow zebra sports bra, rainbow tutu, rainbow compression sleeves, rainbow kinesiology tape, bright shoes, bright hat, no worries.
I was a big fat rainbow about to run my very first tutu race. Luckily I had friendly faces all around me, as several friends were out there to run as well. Nobody was "racing" it, which made my decision even easier to take.
I was quite happy to see I wasn't the most ridiculous looking person there. Close, but not quite. After all, there were dudes dressed as unicorns. Winning!
Despite the fact that I knew I wasn't running super hard, I was nervous anyway. I wasn't wearing a watch, so my new fear became running slower than it felt and totally embarrassing myself with a slow time that would be online forever. To hopefully prevent this from happening, I positioned myself at the start with the 2:00 and 2:10 pacers (thank you, baby Jesus, for there being pacers to sort of help me keep track of my mediocrity). I wanted to be sure I didn't start out as fast as the 2:00 pacer, but never allowed the 2:10 pacer to pass me. A 2:05-ish time seemed reasonable to me. Faster than a usual long run, but not so hard that I couldn't recover quickly. Embarrassingly far off my PR pace, but it is what it is. Is "embarrassingly" even a word?
So it started off without much fanfare. I found a decent pace that wasn't hard, got into a bit of a groove for that first mile. A group of girls near me were talking about the course, and I made the mistake of mentioning hills. They actually asked, "there are lots of hills?" Oh, dear, were they in for a surprise.
By the time I saw Greg at the two mile mark I'd already run up three of the damn hills, but I still felt really good. Of course I did....I was only two miles into a 13.1 mile run. If you don't feel good then, you're really screwed. But in all seriousness, I felt just fine. This was pace I could keep doing, whatever pace it was....but I actually had no clue because I wasn't wearing a watch. A girl running with me for a few miles almost blurted out how long we'd been running, but I told her NOOOOOOO. I didn't want to freak myself out if I was running too fast or too slow. I had found my groove and I wanted to hold onto it for dear life.
Years ago Greg ran a half marathon on this course, actually the only one he ran at race pace because all his other half marathons have been with me, a much slower runner. He still to this day is traumatized by the course, but I always rolled my eyes at him because I've run some pretty hard half marathons with just as much elevation gain. No way could this course be harder.
It's harder.
The damn hills WOULD NOT QUIT. See, I should know this because two of my triathlons were out here, and the bike portion was this exact course. I know the hills suck and they don't quit. But I always figured it would be easier to run on it than ride on it.
That's debatable.
It was right about the half way mark when I realized that this was getting a little difficult. My heart rate appeared to be under control, I wasn't breathing particularly heavy, my legs weren't fatigued, but I think my head was getting in the way of my badassery. When you start seeing practically every person walking up the hills, it starts to bug you (NO, I DID NOT WALK UP A SINGLE DAMN HILL). I think I was ready to be done. But I still had like six miles and eleventy billion hills to go. It was around this point that a tutu unicorn dude was leapfrogging with me, alternating running and walking. As I passed him during his walk break, I mentioned that it kinda sucked out there. His response was, "but at least we look good!" You know what? We did look good!
Greg always talked about the hill along the toll road as being particularly atrocious. I remember having an asthma attack on that hill during one of the triathlons, so the thought of this beast loomed over me as I approached it. But, I actually caught a break here. When I made the turn onto that road, I felt a breeze. It felt a little cooler out, and it made me so happy I got a second wind going up that hill. It really wasn't bad at all! I was badass again!
Until the next hill. Dammit.
I was being deliberately slow at the aid stations, taking a little bit of extra time to refill my water bottle. I didn't want to take too long and rack up too many extra seconds onto my finish time, but I also didn't want to run anymore, so it was a little bit of a mental battle.
Once I saw the 11 mile marker, I felt a little better (not physically, because give me a break, but mentally definitely better). My legs were now fatiguing and all the damn hills were catching up to me. That's actually probably really great that it took so long for my legs to start to feel the effects of the hills and it gave me a bit of a mental boost that technically I was holding up okay for it being the worst weather ever. I only had two miles to go and I thought I might even be able to speed up a little bit. Not that I would know, since I wasn't wearing a watch.
On one of the last turns, we got a headwind that was actually kind of strong. I had to hold onto my hat to keep it from flying off, and although the wind made it feel cooler and less humid, I wasn't particularly appreciative of it being in my face. I mean, seriously, can this race just be over now?
You have no idea how great it was to see the 12 mile marker and know that I actually really was ALMOST DONE. I was passing people! I was running faster! I wasn't having an asthma attack! And I was pretty sure I wasn't going to embarrass myself since the 2:10 pacer never caught me. I lost sight of the 2:00 pacer by mile 4 so I knew I was several minutes over that mark.
As I approached the finish line I caught sight of the clock and it said 2:05. THANK GOD. I was totally okay with a 2:05 on the books, especially since I actually, if I totally admitted it to myself, felt just fine. Ready to be done, but still very much in control of my run.
Still felt awfully refreshing to cross the finish line AND FINALLY BE DONE RUNNING. Then I drank all the water I could find and wanted to lay down in the grass and take a nap.
The morning, however, wasn't quite over. I discovered that I actually got 2nd place in my age group. Are you kidding me? I run a 2:05 half marathon and GET ON THE PODIUM? Were there like 3 people in my age group? (actually, there were 12 so I legit did well for my age in that particular race....go figure). Mediocre time or not, I was damn proud of that second place medal! First time ever that I have placed in a half marathon, and I was going to take it!
My two teammates who ran also got 2nd in their age groups, so it was a good day for Georgetown Triathletes and our "training runs."
The next morning it was 50 degrees out and 60% humidity. This morning? 46 degrees out. I ran a progressive tempo run this morning and totally killed it.
This coming weekend is my first of three 20-milers. The forecast? THUNDERSTORMS. Shoot me now.
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