Early mid life crisis? Perhaps. For some inexplicable reason, upon celebration of my 29th birthday, vowed to run a half marathon before my 30th. Crazy? Yes. One short year ago I had diligently trained to run a 5k. (For those who are metric-conversion challenged that's only 3.1 miles.) Yet, somehow I had myself convinced I needed to run 13.1 miles? Yup. Crazy.
Someone once told me "A half marathon is only a 5k with a ten mile warm up." Fiddlesticks! That's a bunch of nonsense right there. Training for a spring race proved to be quite the test of determination. There is really nothing fun about running distance on a treadmill (or as Chanda calls it...the hamster wheel). My hatred for the treadmill pushed me to running outside in all kinds of fun weather conditions. Though we had an unusually mild winter, without fail we'd have amazingly gorgeous weather during the week and then craptasticly cold, wet, and snowy weekend weather. Weekends were my "long" training runs. Go figure.
Little did I know how important this outdoor crappy weather training would turn out to be. Friday packet pick up presented a gorgeous breezy 70+ degree day. What a difference a day makes. Race day was wet and cold. So very very cold. We got rained on and pelted with sleet. Around mile 7 I calculated my time and distance in my head and determined my "goal" finish time was not likely to happen. "Just keep running!" I told myself. I've been super spoiled by running the Akron Marathon relays. The cheering and neighborhood support is fantastic. Other than the occasional glare from disgruntled drivers, there were zero "neighborhood" folks along this course. The "human cones" (race volunteers) would sometimes cheer halfheartedly. (Though, who can blame them for their lack of enthusiasm when it was freaking COLD out!?!)
Thankfully, I have an amazing husband. (As does my running partner.) Our men braved the dreary conditions to come cheer us on. They endured three whole miles of trekking along the course to see us at three different locations (including the finish line.) Three miles may not sound like much, but keep in mind they wore jeans, boots (work & cowboy respectively), and one even sported a cowboy hat. Those of you who know our husbands can guess which of the two wore the cowboy apparel. They sure do love us.
I crossed the finish line with a time of 2 hours 6 minutes and 46 seconds. I finished at exactly the middle of the pack (over all, in my "gender" and in my age category.) It was over my original goal time of finishing under two hours, but gosh darn it I finished. At the advice of Nathan from one of his blog posts, I had armed myself with a "back up goal" of finishing with less than "ten minute mile" average pace. I accomplished my "plan b" goal with an average pace of 9:41 minutes per mile. I'll take it.