Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Historic Half-Marathon

I approach road races the same way I do childbirth:  lots of chap-stick, hydration, a good watch, and a motivational playlist on my IPOD.  For the Marine Corps Historic Half Marathon, it was no different.

In the spirit of race recaps (this is a link to the last time I ran this race) 
Here is My 2011 RACE REVIEW (Mile Markers are Approximate):

Mile 1:  I start in the way back so that psychologically I feel fast as I pass everyone.

Mile 3:  I feel like I'm in an inverted parade as people on the sidelines cheer, hand out Twizzlers and other goodies, and ring bells.

Mile 4:  A seventy year old man in front of me is running without a shirt.  I watch his love handles bounce up and down for awhile, contemplating entropy and other deep topics.

Mile 5:  People on the sidelines are passing out cups of water with a lime.  I pass by them, change my mind, and GO BACK so that I can get a drink.  I chug... and realize immediately they are passing out VODKA with a sugar-coated rim.

Mile 7:  A man with a long brown pony tail and abnormally large calves is wearing dainty women's sandals.  I take one headphone out of my ear and ask, "How's that working for you?" and hope that I don't sound snotty as I pass him.

Mile 8:  The shirt in front of me says Pain is temporary-Pride is Forever, and I contemplate whether or not that is true (Forever?  Really?),  and whether or not pride (regardless of how long it endures) should be the motivation.

Mile 9:  A man at the top of the biggest hill in the race is holding a sign that says, "Chuck Norris never ran a half-marathon."  I smile, find new inspiration, and tell Chuck Norris jokes to myself the rest of the way up the hill.

Mile 10:  Two-ton-calves-sandal-man is ahead of me now and I mentally take a laso, catch him, and reel him in (It's called mental imagery...WHAT?'ve never tried it?).  Once he's right in front of me,  I pretend like I'm in a wheelchair and he's pulling me (Don't knock it;  it works...kind of).

Mile 12:  I pass my car and wonder what the ramifications would be if I just hopped in and drove away.  I'm mad at myself that I can't sustain an 8 minute mile pace (even in the wheel chair) for the second half of the race.

Mile 13:  I have absolutely no reason to sprint to the finish line.  No one is waiting for me and no one there cares.  I am listening to a song on the IPOD and wondering how it got on my running playlist.

 "Jesus, I am resting, the joy of Who you are..."

It completely does not fit the occasion... but then fits in every way.

*Time:  1:59:20


Austin said...

This was beautiful Annie! We have a 10k in Oct that we would love to have you at, or perhaps even run a R4TL there?

cosas del mar said...

Wow, you really drank vodka during your half-marathon? THAT is hilarious. Way to go on finishing, and also on the funniest race inner-monologue ever!

Kevin P. Mahan said...

Fantastic post. Thank you for sharing.