Run to Remember, Take Two

Well, I’m officially a marathoner. Congratulations to me (congratulations, indeed, seeing as how I use the term “officially” rather loosely and am referring to the fact that I’ve logged 26.2 miles along the way of my running; those miles are in there somewhere). 

Officially officially though? I’ve run two half-marathons, which in theory makes me a marathoner. Not to get all technical, but it does. So just call me Diddy from now on.

This half was soooooo much different from last year’s. For starters, I didn’t get my 12 mile training run in. What I thought was 12 miles turned out to be 11.46. How embarrassing. Another difference was that my shorter weekday runs were more of a chore than I would like to admit. 

The biggest difference? My nerves. I didn’t even have time to be nervous, between my sisters coming in Friday, my parents coming in Saturday (and my volunteering to make a big brunch for everybody; do we even own 8 place settings? Nope, sure don’t), and the wedding we had in Connecticut Saturday night. Most people probably would have had a drink or two at the reception to take the edge off. I am not most people. Seeing as how the only thing “open” at the bar was sangria, I chose three helpings of apps in lieu of alcohol. Bottomless sangria? Even w/out a race the next day, I would have passed on that one-way ticket to struggle city.

The weather was another huge difference. Last year’s weather was hot and sunny. So this year, of course, it’s raining. And 38 degrees. Did I mention this race was on Sunday, May 26th? (May 26th not December 26th, just to be clear) I don’t like running long distances in my tights or long sleeves b/c I always overheat when I run and the only thing more annoying than being too hot is being the girl w/ the jacket tied around her waist. 

I opted for long sleeves and shorts, which turned out okay. I wanted to ditch the jacket around mile 3 or so, but decided against it; I just blamed my wet hair on the on-again off-again drizzle, not the buckets of sweat from wearing an extra layer. 

So here’s the thing: I obviously wanted to beat my time from last year. What’s the point of doing something if you’re not going to kick ass? 2 hours, 4 minutes was the time to beat. And honestly? I didn’t see it happening. I was so much more in love w/ running last year, and it’s such a mental game. All I could do was keep a pace I was comfortable w/ and stick to my cardinal rule: no stopping (b/c if I stop, there’s no guarantees that I’ll start up again). 

So when I crossed the finish line and saw that I beat my time by a minute, I couldn’t believe it. When I checked the results later and saw that my time actually beat it by about three minutes, I was high-fiving and two-stepping all over the place (I guess that’s my idea of a victory dance?)

Like last year, Brent and Beth came out to see me. Unlike last year, this time they actually saw me! Along w/ the rest of my family, who were total champs about waiting around in cold drizzle to cheer me on. Two of my sisters even ran the five-miler! 

The last mile was really tough, and it got me thinking about if and when I want to do another one of these. For now, I’m content basking in my post-race glow and calling myself a marathoner. Which means my ass is planted on the couch w/ a bag of chips or at the bar w/ a pitcher of beer. In case you couldn’t tell, I prefer to carb-load after the big race.