Last updated: 2006-01-22 12:00 AM
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The starting gun went off somewhere in the distance while I was still milling and chatting with a woman near me. We had a liesurely walk to the start line, then stopped chatting and started jogging north. To the east, the sky was spectacular: words cannot do justice to the sunrise we had that day, as if God himself were cheering us on. As we proceeded up through the slow jog of the first section, I kept pivoting my head to the right to watch the show, then back front again to not crash into everyone. I wanted to tell all of the focused athletes around me, "wait! Look at that! Look!" Some did, brief acknowledgements, but it was hard not to actually stop and stare. :) The stream of full marathon runners one block east of us and the bridge-like architecture of the ballpark, silouetted against this perfect sunrise, made me wish I had a camera.
After that, I ran a near-perfect race.
I've never "gone long" before, so heeded the advice I've heard and read a million times: start slow. I would have been happy to hold 12:30 minute miles through the whole race, would have been satisfied with 12:45's, my first time taking on a challenge like this. My splits, well, I still don't quite believe this, but I did some math and wrote it down: over the first 6.2 miles, I averaged 12:30's (exactly on goal). For the next 2.8 miles, I averaged about 11:58's. For the last 4.1 miles, I averaged 11:28's. Faster and faster and faster straight through to the finish - see last mile, below.
It went like this: after recovering from the sunrise :), I felt I might be running too fast and determined to ignore the runners around me, focusing instead on my own breathing. My rhythm for a long, slow run is 4 steps on the in breath, 3 steps out. (Lest you all think I'm part marine mammal, holding my breath that long, I will remind you that I take very short, quick steps!) Four in, three out. Four in, three out. And so I found my pace. No watch or anything, just knowing my body, you know?
Once I got warmed up, we were running through the Near Northside. Not a lot of people out here, just a few small noses pressed low against screen doors inside the houses, curious, and then once we took the turn onto Quitman, more onlookers along the sides. At this point I started thanking cops, slapping kids' hands, just generally having a ball. As the course continues, the neighborhood becomes more eclectic, as did the fan support: the Native American Medicine Man, who I swear I could *feel* calling up energy from the earth for us, and the bongo drum guy. Bongo drum guy rocked. I told him so, loudly (I did a lot of things loudly during this race.)
Oh, I was enjoying this all right! Every strain of music we heard seemed to me "my song," whether rap or ranchera or 80's pop or even the blaring hard rock bands through Montrose, which I greeted with my fist pumping in the air. Around Mile 5 I commented to a guy near me, "Okay, I've got my Mile 5 high now. I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts, should be until about Mile 7!" Well it turned out that my Mile 5 High carried me straight through until Mile 10 or better.
I took water at the drink stations, but not the nasty lemon-lime Gatorade, ever. At Mile 7, my "big brother" Bill was waiting for me in his bathrobe (I'm thinking, "what is up with the bathrobe???" but apparently other runners appreciated the humor) and handed me MY flavor of Gatorade, FROST, as planned. Just before the turnaround, Mile 8.5 or so, my roommate Alisa had been waiting for me and jumped in, "how are you feeling? how's it going?" yadda yaddda yadda, and the whole time she's running with me I'm thinking, "stop, Alisa baby! you can't run!" but I guess she was excited too.
Unfortunately it was right around Mile 8 that the chafe-age issue set in. It had never really been a problem in training, so here was the one piece of advice that I had ignored, to my regret. LUBE UP, PEOPLE! Well that was painful, obviously, but the type of pain you just deal with via the "override" switch, so I don't think it slowed me down. Was wishing for someone to be standing by the sidelines with a tube of SOMETHING slippery!
The turnaround is just before Mile 9, and there was an announcer there trying to hype people up, with cheesy things like "are we having a good time????" Well I hooted back at him, waving my hands and smiling in such a way that I think even poor announcer dude was taken aback. I am talking my Mile 5 High here, people, I was grinning until my ears hurt! Just after that I saw Gomez coming down towards the turnaround, and I was ready, "GOMEZ YOU ROCK!!!" I hollered. He smiled and shouted a "hey girl!" back. Sheer fun.
Well 'round about Mile 10 I start thinking maybe it's time to stop thanking all the cops and hand-slapping all the little kids and just stick to running for a while. Yeah I'm in uncharted territory now, no run longer than 10 miles in my blessed life, and I'm feeling it. Bathrobe Bill was back Mile 10, second Frost Gatorade at the ready. I drank some of it gradually over that mile then set it down on Allen Parkway.
Now my gait is fast and steady, not the best feeling in the world but I can sustain it. The chafing is bad, and pretty much I'm seeing nothing but the bill of my cap and some pavement ahead of me. Then I flick my eye towards the First Aid Station near Mile 11 and catch out a glimpse of a couple of open jars of Vaseline out on a chair. "VASELINE! GOD BLESS YOU!" I grab a generous glob and apply it while running. Who even cares any more? Instant relief. (But, um, how long is this going to look like bad road rash? Anyone?)
I'm back to my focused running, pavement and cap in view, and don't even see the Mile 12 marker approach. But I hear the volunteers call out the splits as we run by, and cock my head. I'm ahead of my goal. "No kidding?" I say, doubting a little.
"Was that Mile 12?" I ask a guy, and he assures me it was. Now I know I'm beating my goal, and something new inside of me clicks and says, "I want to beat it by A LOT." So my steps get faster and faster, my pace quickens, I am pushing as hard as I dare. I mean, I REALLY WANT this. Can I sustain this pace here? How about this? All right, not so bad, what about THIS? This entire mile I am just trying to calculate how much I can push it and not crash before that finish. A fan by the side of the road hollers, "JUST A QUARTER OF A MILE," and I snarl, "IS SHE LYING????" (It was closer to a half mile at that point, I knew it, didn't trust her for a second.) "Because if it's a QUARTER OF A MILE, I'm going for it!" Throughout this whole mile I am just passing people. Joggers, people who've given up and are walking now, whatever, don't worry, I'll pass you too. One of the guys I pass at this point gives me encouragement, he hears me questioning and can see that I've Got It and he assures me, "you've got it!" So like this, I tear through downtown.
I was actually a little disappointed at the fans in the chute. They were lined up behind the barricades, dead silent, peering anxiously up the street for a sign of their own personal loved one.
What a load of crock. I have just run THIRTEEN MILES, give me some love, people! So for just maybe the last 150 yards or so I have my hand out, FINALLY someobdy gets it and sticks out their hand. And the next, and the next and the next - suddenly, the WHOLE CROWD gets it and everyone wants to slap my hand. I need to break away from them for my 20-yard sprint to the finish, pumping my arms and legs like I HAVE NEVER RUN BEFORE. I hear cheering behind me, see, now I'm THEIR runner. They just needed a little coaching.
I cross the line and immediately have to stop because of the slow herd back into the convention center. I am numb, elated, moving in slow motion. I cannot speak. (This latter is a rare condition for me.) I feel like the moon. I must have LOOKED like death warmed over, though, because TWO volunteers pick me out and yell, "ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?" Unable to speak, I just smile and nod in slow motion and give them the ole thumbs up.
I think that last mile may have been the fastest mile I have run ever. Will never know, b/c the last split was at Mile 9, but it sure felt like it. What an AMAZING experience.
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2006-01-22 7:15 PM
4292
Evanston, 
Subject: Houston Half Marathon
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Got out of bed at 4-something-a.m. knowing that my morning plan would not go as planned, as the, um "gastric distress" set in immediately. Well, nice to get it all out of the way early I guess, though it sliced a half an hour out of my morning. Managed to have a few sips of coffee and a bite or two of something bread-related, but not the toast & PB I had planned.
Drove to downtown and parked far from the convention center because I got tired of driving downtown. So my warm-up was a pre-dawn walk. I recognized Aaron (JeepFleeb) in the crowd entering the convention center, so milled around with him and his friends for a while. Also saw my friends Frank & Eka - Frank and I did our first tri together last year, and his wife Eka has been our support team. This time they were BOTH running! Way to go Eka.
I continued the milling around outside, in the general direction of the start. There were so many people that a short person could know nothing, and do nothing but go with the flow. During all of the earlier walking and milling, I had gradually ingested some water, and electrolyte pill, and a banana. Before the start, I sucked down a Gu packet and most of the rest of the water.