the greenville half marathon part 2: race day

 There was a tough 5K race a few years ago that I was excited about.  They give cool trophies to age group winners and I wanted another one.  The week before the race a student slammed her huge steel sculpture into my knee cap.  It hurt during the entire race.  

Coming off of my first half marathon where Blue coughed in my face and got me sick the week before the race, and my first full marathon where I managed to get COVID-19 the day before the race, I guess you could say I was paying a little extra attention last week.  I was bathing in hand sanitizer when one of my students texted me to say she had a fever and wouldn't be in class.  Ugh.  I side-eyed everyone with a cough or a sniffle.  I kept my distance.  My kids were claiming allergies were to blame for their congestion and I hoped they were correct.  

On Friday I felt good.  I ran my 5K at an easy pace and I tried to take it easy all day.  I avoided any hard work and tried to save my energy.  Races make me anxious and I feel ridiculous about it.  Race anxiety for a 5K race for a person who literally runs a 5K every day for years makes zero sense to me.  It'a little more understandable for a bigger race.  I managed to go to bed early Friday night and the anxious thoughts did not ruin my sleep.  That 4:25 am alarm clock did ruin it, however.  I jumped up excited and sleepy and I walked gingerly to the bathroom in the dark to get ready.  I was glad to be feeling good.  Everything was going well.  

I drove an hour to the starting line and parked with no issues.  I was early and I wasn't mad about that.  I was dressed for the weather...mostly.  I knew it was going to be cold at the starting line and it's worse because you just have to stand there shivering for about 30 minutes until the race begins.  Then you're sweating for 2 hours until you stop and get really cold again.  There's no way to dress for that in my experience.  I tossed a clean shirt and hoodie into the family's car for the finish line.  I was wearing a long sleeve running shirt, shorts, ridiculously red socks, my hat and my gloves.  I sat in the car until just a couple of minutes past when I was supposed to be at the starting line and then I ventured out into the cold.  

I had an energy gel in my pocket.  I zipped my keys into another pocket and I put on my gloves.  I walked the short walk to the starting line to begin sizing people up.  Everyone seems so excited at a starting line.  There are fit people and really unfit people.  Some are just there to take photos and drop runners off and some are actually running.  Some have super cool running kits or outfits they've planned and they're all matchy-matchy.  Some are almost naked.  Some are running to warm up.  Some look like they're 80 years old and some look like kids.  Every body type you can imagine is there.  It's a visual treat for an observant person.  

This is the first race that I've paid attention to pacers.  These are people with signs on sticks that have a goal time printed on them.  I found the 1:52 pacer and studied her.  I tried to remember what she was wearing just in case she didn't hold that sign up the whole time.  I studied the people gathering around her too.  Some were older than me, some younger, some were more fit and some were not fit looking at all.  I decided that these were my people.  That one guy though, he looked my age and I was going to have to beat him.  Sorry dude.  I can't help it.  

I'm naturally competitive.  This is a blessing and a curse but honestly, mostly a blessing.  It keeps me drawing and sculpting on lazy days and it makes me run faster in races.  If you're in front of me in a race, I'm going to try to pass you.  If you look my age, I'm going to try to beat you.  And if I can't, I'm probably going to call you some names quietly in my head.  I'm not proud of that last part.  I'm always looking around at a race, always sizing people up.  I did not expect to be anywhere near placing for my age group but you know, anything can happen.  I still remember the sting of that one guy passing me a few years ago and I ended up placing 4th in my age group and I didn't get a cool medal.  I still hate that guy.

starting line photo

I stood there in the cold and tried to keep the anxiety and negative thoughts quiet.  I tried to think positive thoughts.  I tried to see myself finishing in under 2 hours.  I thought about breakfast and coffee.  I thought about not having to do long runs again for a while.  I rarely talk about a race publicly until it's over.  I hate the idea of saying I'm going to do something and then failing.  Standing there in the cold I took a selfie with the start line behind me and decided I would post it.  Before I put my phone away it buzzed with a text message.  Before each of Violet's races I try to make it over to her and whisper "Be a badass".  It makes her laugh and reminds her of her strength.  The text was from her.

Something that must have been an emotion welled up in me.  I laughed.  It was perfectly timed.  

The wind was cold but had less impact when people started packing in.  People were nice and didn't talk to me.  I appreciated that.  The pacer told someone she'd talk their ear off and that was a red flag.  There was another pacer ahead of us with 1:45 on his sign.  That was probably pushing it for me.  I stood my ground.  The gun went off and the crowd lurched forward as the elite runners took off.  Then we stopped to keep from rear-ending the people in front of us before slowly taking off in a jog to keep from tripping and falling down.  The pacers are helpful because they're experienced runners and they know to keep it slow at first and then get a little faster with each mile.  Inexperienced runners take off too fast and get tired too soon.  Once we hit an actual running pace, around a half mile, I felt like we were running slow.  I thought about ditching the pace group but decided to be smart.  I fell in behind the pacer lady and ran slow until I just couldn't any more.  I found a void and passed her, moving ahead with another guy who was coming up from the back way too fast.  I positioned myself with the 1:45 pacer group and decided to see how that felt.

I stayed with this group watching and observing.  As soon as I'd learn who was around me it would shift.  Someone would fall back and someone would pass us.  There were a couple of guys in their 20s ahead of me side by side.  I thought I was faster than them but I couldn't get a spot to pass.  Then I noticed the old guy come up beside me.  He had gray hair and looked like he was my age or older.  He also started with the 1:52 pacer and now he was here.  He was trying to beat me.  I've learned to not be cocky but I was going to give this guy a run for his money.  For miles we'd trade spots.  He'd pass, then I'd pass.  He was a spitter and that grossed me out.  But he was also in shape and he wouldn't be easy to beat.  Around mile 4 I decided to pass him again and this meant leaving the 1:45 pacer group.  This was not smart but if you've read up to this point, it also shouldn't be surprising.  

We were entering a less populated part of the course and because I left the pacers, I started checking my watch to see my pace.  My goal was to keep my pace under 9 minutes per mile but so far I was staying below 8 minutes per mile.  I was shocked to see this and I panicked a little.  Was I going too fast?  Did I make the worst, most rookie mistake?  Was this old guy going to beat me?  Would I burn out and not even finish?  

Negative thoughts kill us.  They keep us from doing our best and they often undermine us before we even begin a task.  Running helps me to keep negative thoughts at bay.  I get up and run 3.1 miles before most people are even awake and I know that I've accomplished something.  If I can do that, I can do a lot more.  I remembered Violet's text message.  I was a badass.  I felt good in spite of my fast pace and I needed to beat the spitting old guy.  And even if I was going too fast, these fast miles would still help, right?  I kept running the same pace.  The miles ticked by and I kept my pace under 8 minutes.  The old guy never caught me again.  Well into the middle of the course now, I was running with an actual runner.  This young lady was definitely an athlete.  She was wearing a matching running kit and she had a belt with water and energy gels.  She also had biceps.  We traded spots for a few miles but mostly we ran side by side.  It made me feel good to be keeping up with her.  I laughed a little to think that she may not have had the same good feeling about running beside me.  She navigated the water stations like a pro, calling out "water" or "gaterade" depending on her need.  I would swerve away to not get splashed and I ignored the fact that I was sweating a lot and probably needed water.  

Around mile 9 I felt a distinct change in my legs.  It's like they both got 10 pounds heavier within two steps.  I was getting tired.  Fading.  This was what I had been afraid would happen.  I knew I needed to get the energy gel in me but I wanted water first.  At the next water station I leaned in and yelled "water" before gracefully grabbing a cup.  I don't know if you've ever tried to drink a cup of water while running and breathing heavily but it's not easy.  I'm not joking when I say I almost drowned myself right there on the course.  I managed to get a sip down my throat but I coughed and gagged for a couple of minutes after.  It was mildly embarrassing and sort of funny.  The athletic lady passed me during my near drowning.  I took my time getting the energy gel down during mile 10.  I was realizing I probably waited too long to have it.  I felt a little better but the miles were getting to me mentally.  I knew the course so I knew it was a long way to the finish line.  I tried to be positive and I had to start saying all the positive things to myself to keep going.  I knew I was slowing down because for the first time in several miles, people were coming up from behind and passing me.  

"just keep moving, just keep moving"

I checked my watch and my pace was now just above 8 minutes.  This hurt my positive thoughts.  My legs were numb and heavy and I was having to think about picking my feet up and keeping my pace.  I pushed a bit harder during mile 12 and almost got under 8 minutes again but I was definitely running out of gas.  My competitive spirit was gone.  People would pass me and I didn't even have the energy to call them names in my head.  I kept thinking, "just keep moving, just keep moving".  

There were some funny signs being held by nice people along the way.  I can't overstate how important these things are to runners.  People rang cowbells, shouted encouragement, and waved at runners they didn't know.  I saw the usual signs about how you're not even close to the finish line, running like you stole something, or something about not pooping yourself.  They were all mildly amusing.  When I was struggling near the end I looked over and saw a white-haired lady holding a poster she made that simply said "Don't be a bitch".  This was the one that got me through mile 13 with a smile.  

The crowd thickened as we entered downtown Greenville.  The cheers and excitement helped.  I couldn't really feel anything physically or emotionally at this point.  I had to finish strong and I just hoped I'd see a really good time on the clock as I crossed the finish line.  There was an awkward hairpin turn right before the finish and as the finish line came into view, one last guy passed me.  I didn't care how old he was at this point but I still wanted to beat him.  We were just steps from the finish line and I did give every bit I had left but he beat me by a step.  I didn't care.  The clock was on 1:44 when I stepped across so I knew I had met my goal.  I would have been elated if I hadn't thought I was going to die.  

the face of "I made it!"

For the first time ever after a run, I thought I might get sick.  We finished on the outdoor stage at the Peace Center in Greenville and after stopping my watch and grabbing a medal, I saw that I was now expected to walk down some stairs.  Right in front of everyone.  It was brutal.  I grabbed a water and scanned for a banana.  Oddly, the banana provider didn't show up so I was stuck with a tiny Moon Pie and a Nature Valley bar. I was dizzy and a little disoriented.  I knew my family was supposed to meet me at the finish but I told them I'd likely finish around 1:50 so I was early.  I thought I may have beat them there.  When I gathered my wits I texted a funny message to the family chat and started walking around to cool off.  I drank my water and soon the family appeared.  They were early enough to see me finish and they were mad the announcer guy didn't call my name when I crossed.  My mouth was too dry to eat the granola bar so the family walked to a store and grabbed me an orange juice and a banana.  

finished with a lady eating a burrito in the background

I continued observing people at the finish line.  Some of those people who appeared so unfit and un-athletic had beat me there.  Some of the fast looking people finished behind me.  All shapes and sizes of humans mingled with family at the end all so proud of this new accomplishment.  I was amused by the people taking photos.  Selfies are fun to watch but so are the posed family photos.  There were a lot of dogs in the photos.  Many of the people with good signs held the signs for the photos too.  It was a fun scene.  We stuck around until most people had finished and they gave the awards for the fastest finishers.  The times were amazingly fast.  These were people wearing Olympic Trials shirts.  Some finished a good 45 minutes ahead of me.  

finished and still healthy

I got the official chip time texted to me while we waited.  It was 1:43, an amazing time for me.  This was a 19 minute improvement over my first half marathon.  I was 293rd out of 1,401.  In my age group I was 11 of 58.  I'm no Olympic Trial runner, but I'm pretty fast when I'm not sick!  

I went out a little fast and ran about a minute faster per mile than I trained.  I didn't drink enough water and didn't eat the energy gel soon enough.  But...I didn't die, I had a great pace, and I met my goal.  I was a badass.

The family drove me back to my car and we found a place to eat lunch.  I had just downed a banana, an orange juice, two waters, and a granola bar.  I tossed some BBQ down on top of that and then hobbled back to my car.  Back home, I napped and then Violet and I slowly walked through the grocery store.  Moving around was good for my aching hips.  When we got home I ate again and planted myself on the couch for the rest of the night.  

This morning it was raining and cold when I woke up.  I dreaded it but I knew what I had to do.  I got up slowly and put my running clothes on.  I went out and ran the slowest 5K I've ran since having COVID.  After the first mile my body loosened up and I started to feel glad that I was running.  I've improved a bit throughout the day and while I feel pretty good, I'm not ready to sign up for my next race yet.  

But Violet is talking about wanting to do a half marathon.  And you know I'm going to be down for that.

the greenville half marathon part 1: training

 I don't consider myself an athlete.  I realize I run, but as I've mentioned before, I barely consider myself a "runner".  Perception can be very different from the outside.  

I played stickball in my yard as a kid.  I played little league football in a school league every year that I was eligible.  I played little league baseball for one year.  That was enough.  I stopped with football in 10th grade and I did no other sports in high school.  The first time I ever ran for exercise was my freshman year of college.  I did not enjoy team sports or getting my head smashed by people much larger than me.  I was an art kid.

a tiny me at a little league homecoming

I mention this because yesterday I ran my second half marathon at age 50.  I still can't believe I'm 50.  As I said, in my freshman year of college, I decided to run a few times.  This was nothing regular, just a mile or two when I felt unhealthy.  Running made me feel better.  My second and third year of college was about the same and it wasn't until my senior year that I starting actually running.  My roommate Stan and I started running 5 miles every weeknight.  It was cool.  

After graduation I ran much less regularly, but I still enjoyed it.  After packing on a few pounds of insulation in my young adulthood, I finally decided to get in shape by signing up for my first 5K race, a decision that terrified me.  It was December and very cold and I knew nothing about how to dress, how to prepare or even how to run a 5K.  I just signed up and ran in shorts and a short sleeve shirt.  My first 5K time was 30 minutes.  I didn't know if that was good or bad, I only knew I didn't die and that was my goal.

I've ran a few more 5Ks now and I've improved my official time a good bit.  My best is a 19:10 from my early 40s.  Since then I've ran a bit slower and after turning 50 at the start of this year, I figured my personal records were probably behind me.  I realize that if I were to hire a coach and abide by some rules I could probably improve my times, but I'm not much of a rule follower (I'll follow mine religiously but I hate other people's rules).  I still don't have any matching running clothes, I don't follow a nutrition plan and I completely ignore all common sense running techniques.  These are weakness I acknowledge.  

I put off training for a distance race because of training plans.  I looked some up online and they all called for "rest days".  Most "rest days" require you to not run.  This was a dealbreaker for me.  For most of my 40s the idea of running everyday and running 12-24 miles on some of those days seemed beyond ridiculous so I never thought seriously about a half marathon, much less a full marathon.  But then I started to wonder if I could do it.  So I took a training plan and added in 5K runs on each "rest day" and I had my own training plan.  Was this stupid?  Probably.  Was it good for my body?  Maybe not.  But did I do it anyway?  Definitely.  And what happens when you run your first half marathon and claim it will be your last?  You start to wonder if you could do it faster.  Then you sign up for your second half marathon.

That brings us to early December.  Violet brought home a local running magazine and I saw the ad for The Greenville Half Marathon which was taking place in person on the Swamp Rabbit Trail.  This is the trail where I ended up running the virtual Charleston Marathon a year ago.  A couple of thoughts jumped up in my mind:  1. I wonder if I could beat my time from my first half marathon.  2. I had been sick for both my first half marathon and my full marathon.  What could I do if I was actually healthy?

I signed up. I dusted off my modified training plan and I monitored the amount of cookies I was eating each night.  I didn't really change it, I just monitored it.  Then I started running.  A half marathon plan can be pretty straightforward.  The one I used adds in some longer runs during the week but mostly the weekend long runs just start at 2 miles and add a mile each week until the next one scheduled is the 13.1 on race day.  Easy-peasy.

my modified training plan

What about a nutrition plan?  I actually just started eating salads and some vegetables in my 40s.  I don't enjoy a lot of greasy, fried foods so I naturally avoid those but I do have a sweet tooth.  I'll empty an ice cream carton or a cookie container.  Any holiday candy or chocolate gets very nervous around me.  One of the reasons I run is so I can eat what I want.  Race season tends to be in the winter and early spring months which means training through the big eating holidays so I'm not really watching what I eat, I'm just running extra miles. So I planned to keep eating food.  That was my nutrition plan.

Those winter training months also require some extra clothing.  I'm a world-class sweater and I get really hot when I run.  I'm also lucky enough to run in my own yard for regular runs so I can go out in shorts and a single shirt most mornings during the winter and not worry.  I know when I need long sleeves, when I need to add a hat and when I need to add gloves.  I've even modified for actual winter weather by adding leggings or even a rain jacket.  All of this comes from the "active wear" racks in TJMaxx or Marshalls and believe me when I say that none of it matches.  At all.  Again, 90% of my runs are at my house in the dark and the deer and skunks do not care what I wear.  

yellow, burgundy, blue, white, black, gray.  typical running fashion

While training for the full marathon a year ago, I did listen to some advice about hydration and nutrition during runs.  The closest I've ever felt to being a "real" runner was going into a running store and buying some Honey Stinger energy gels.  I even had to get some weird tablets to dissolve in a water bottle to stay hydrated longer on crazy long runs.  The preparation and planning takes a lot of the fun out of running and I didn't enjoy any of that.  I also had to buy a belt to wear that held water bottles and all of the food you have to eat for a marathon.  There are people who love the uniform and the stuff and they get a kick out of suiting up.  I just like to run.  

As I trained for this half marathon, I decided I wasn't going to fool with any of that stuff.  I didn't have it for my first half, and I probably didn't need it for this one.  There would be water stations along the race course and that was probably good enough.  I didn't need any water during the training long runs but I did start to wonder if I should pack just one energy gel in my pocket for the race.  

My training runs were pretty uneventful.  I didn't push too hard.  The training plan I modified was not designed for getting faster, it was actually intended to be a beginner plan.  I got up, ran, and then I got a fancy coffee and a pastry.  I highly recommend this plan.  I did keep an eye on my mile paces and as the miles increased, I consciously tried to keep my pace around 9 minutes per mile.  In the back of my head I did have a goal for the race.  I wanted to finish in under 2 hours.  I didn't actually do the math, but I figured if I trained at 9 minutes per mile I might be able to get under 2 hours on race day.  Races offer some adrenaline and competition to move you a little faster and I'd just use that to my advantage.  My final long run was 12 miles and I kept my pace under 9 minutes the whole time.  I think that would have been a sub 2 hour half marathon pace.  I was as ready as I was going to get.  

Now I just needed to not get sick.

The One Where I Ran A Half Marathon

I was at a Holiday party in December with a bunch of people I either didn’t know at all or didn’t know well.  So basically, I was nervous and sweating at a table trying to be social when one of the people I sort of knew asked about running.  We went through the whole “are you still running a 5K every single day?” stuff, and the conversation turned to running distances.  I was asked if I had ever run a marathon or half marathon, and if I’d ever want to do that.  The more social person recommended the Myrtle Beach Half Marathon but told me that I’d need to break my running streak and take some days off if I wanted to train for a half marathon. 

The rest of the meal was typical Holiday party-ish, but while all the small talk was going on around me, there was a whole debate going on inside my head.  “Would I really have to take a day off?”, “What if I just showed up and ran it without training?”, and “What if I trained but didn’t take any rest days? These were a few of the questions I was turning over in my head.  When I got home, I may have Googled a few half marathon training plans just to get an idea of what a plan looked like.  I gave it a week or so of thought before going to the marathon website and signing up.  I took one of the training plans and made some adjustments to fit my needs.  I moved the weekly long run to a convenient day, and I took every day that was labeled “rest day” and filled it in with “5K run” instead.  Apparently, I was going to run a half marathon.

My training plan.  If you're a runner, I know how bad this looks.  

The training plan I found was a three-month plan, and as luck would have it, the half marathon was about 2 ½ months away.  I was already running more than the first couple of weeks of suggested distances, so it fit perfectly.  Each weekend the longer run added a mile, so after a few weeks, I had to adjust my schedule to spend a little more time running.  Near the end of the training plan, that longer run edged up to 9, 10, 11, and 12 miles, all distances I’d never tried to run before.  I found that I enjoyed the long runs for all the reasons I love running shorter distances each day.  Each long run provided a quiet space to think and have conversations with myself.  It provided time outside running on my trail and seeing animals, colors and skies.  It also increased my appetite, which is cool because I love to eat.  On long running days, I’d get up and have a nice, big waffle.  In the afternoon I’d run and by the time I finished running it would be time to eat dinner and I’d be ravenously hungry. 

When the miles reached double digits, I was running for so long that when I’d stop at the end, I’d feel very dizzy.  The sky seemed to be moving or even spinning, and my legs wanted to leave my body.  On the last long run before the half marathon I ran 12 miles.  When the mileage clicked over to 12, I slowed down and thought about continuing to walk to see if I could avoid the dizziness, but I found myself on the ground instead.  My body said “No, I think we’re going to lie here for a few minutes and think about life.”

Luck visited again with the timing of the race.  I was on spring break the week leading up to the half marathon.  The tiny bit of research I did on how to run a half marathon told me I needed to stock up on some carbs leading up to the race.  This meant waffles for breakfast every single morning, and I wasn’t mad about that.  There were even some big carb-y meals at dinner. 

Wednesday evening, I was walking out the door with Blue, my 13-year-old son, and he coughed in my face.  Accidentally, of course, but a cough none-the-less.  He had been congested and feeling bad for a couple of weeks, but since he doesn’t get along with pollen, we figured he was reacting to the coming of Spring.  When I felt the cough hit my face I wondered if maybe he had been sick and now that sickness was multiplying on my face.  This will be important to remember in a couple of paragraphs.

Friday, I got up early and ran my usual 5K in the dark.  We loaded up the car for the weekend trip to the beach and headed out.  Packet pick-up was held at a Dave and Buster’s location and came with a free-play card, so the kids were thrilled to spend some time playing games.  Just like everyone else, they thought their 7.6 million tickets would get them a widescreen TV at the redemption desk.  They ended up with some gummy bears and two oversized kazoos.  Strangely enough, I was not the bright parent who decided a noisemaker was a good idea on a weekend trip. 

Blue on the windy beach.

We got to walk on the beach and taste the strong coastal winds.  Tiny sandstorms were blowing down the beach.  The temperature was in the upper 50s, but the wind cut right through you.  The beach is my happy place, and it was a perfect way to relax before the pre-race jitters.  I enjoyed more carbs that evening and started calculating when I’d need to wake up in order to make it to the start line on time.  The race began at 7:00 am.  We were staying about 20 minutes away from the start line.  The only big race I did before this one required absolute chaos just to get to the start line, so I didn’t know how difficult it would be to get there.  Roads were going to be closed. Everyone was going to be headed to the same place at the same time.  We ended up deciding to get up at a little after 5:00 am and planning to leave at 5:45 am. 

That night I went to bed around 10:00 pm dreading the early alarm.  I also felt kind of bad.  I had a headache and my nose was stopping up.  I kept thinking about Blue coughing on me.  After 2 ½ months of training and being lucky enough to stay healthy and avoid injuries, a single 13-year-old cough was going to bring me down.  I slept from 10:00 pm until 2:00 am.  Then I woke up at least once an hour until finally giving up on sleep just before the alarm went off.  I felt terrible.  I couldn’t breathe and my head was throbbing.  I knew I was still running but now the pre-race fears were amping up and making me think about dropping dead on the course.  What if my head exploded?  What if my heart stopped?  I’ve been told I can have an overactive imagination. 

I tossed a couple of Ibuprofen down my throat, ate a banana and a granola bar, and threw on my running clothes which suddenly felt a lot less warm than I would have preferred.  I did look at the weather forecast in advance and planned what I would wear.  At home I run in low 30s temperatures all winter in shorts.  I don’t bother with long sleeves unless it’s below freezing.  I expected to start out chilly and warm up quickly from running but since I knew there’s often a good breeze at the beach, I opted to take a long sleeve running shirt just in case.  I walked to the car in shorts, a short sleeve shirt under a long sleeve shirt, a beanie, and my running gloves.  I was cold.

We got to the drop off point fast, and I was able to walk right up to the start line.  The wind was barreling down the street, and there was no protection from the wind except inside the line of port-a-potties. I had no intention of going in one of those unless I had an emergency.  I jumped in place and turned my body sideways to offer less wind resistance.  I swayed, walked in circles, and thought about hot summer days.  I was still freezing.  As more and more bodies crowded into the space, the wind didn’t seem as bad.  I kept my mind busy and didn’t really get nervous about the race.  I told myself I could run the distance, and I wasn’t concerned about my time because I really had nothing to use for comparison. 

The starting line beginning to fill in with bodies.

I had looked back at my pace over the last several long runs and figured out that I wanted to be as close to the 2-hour mark as possible.  I expected 2 hours and 15 minutes would be my finish time, so I made my way between the 2-hour pacer and the 2 ½ hour pacer in the corrals.  When the official gun started the race, it was a good minute before we started moving beyond a slow walk.  As with most races, people who had no intention of going fast were at the front and 90% of the other people had to maneuver around them in the first mile.  I was happy to be running, and I was warm almost immediately.  Runners started shedding their outer layers and tossing them on the sidewalk.  Everyone was jockeying for position to pass and trying to find their pace.  I had been warned by Blue’s cross-country coach that everyone goes out too fast and then regrets that error, but my first mile was slower than all my other miles except for the last two. 

As I squeezed between slower runners, and tried not to kick anyone’s legs, I watched the people around me.  There was the female runner just past the start line who got tripped and then almost trampled.  She was smiling as I looked back at her to make sure she was OK.  Someone was helping her up.  Then there was the lady who ran in front of me for almost 3 miles before swerving hard to the right toward the sidewalk.  There was a cute little family with signs on the sidewalk, and I assumed she was going to high five or hug them.  Instead she ran around them and into a small grove of live oak trees before turning around and dropping her pants as she squatted down.  Once I realized what was happening, I averted my eyes. 

I admit to being a tiny bit competitive when it comes to running.  I know I’m not trying out for the Olympic team in my lifetime, but if you’re in front of me, I’m going to try to change that.  In a 5K race I figure out my place easily.  I eyeball the competition before the race.  I see who is where during the first mile, and I set my sights on the people I need to pass.  For the most part, runners’ bodies in a 5K will provide the information I need.  In a half marathon, all of that was out the window.  I was getting lapped by people three times my size.  People who looked like they had never run a day in their lives were speeding by and staying ahead.  People who looked fast were stopping to walk (or heave).  It was a new game to consider, but I had picked my spot, and I was happy to just see if I could cross the finish line alive. 

Luckily, running is great for congestion.  My head and nose cleared as soon as the race began, and I felt great.  I had cursed Blue for giving me the Corona virus and potentially killing me while I tried to run a ridiculous distance, but I was fine.  My legs even felt fast.   I go to the beach a lot, and I’m very familiar with the roads and landmarks, but I don’t really pay attention to the distances between things until I’m running by them.  The race that started by Broadway at the Beach had me running by the local airport and through The Market Common.  I tried not to think about how far that was.  I tried to enjoy the sights.  There was a big FedEx plane landing when I ran by the runway.  There were funny posters held by non-running comedians on the sidewalks.  There were runners around me to watch.  There was even a head-to-toe snowman costume with a sign that said, “Don’t Melt Down”. One of my favorite signs read “If you think this is hard, try dating you!”  Another great one was a lady easily in her 70s holding a sign that said, “Smile If You Are A BADASS!”

Somewhere in The Market Common area there was a stretch of spectators gathered along the sidewalks.  People were smiling and cheering for strangers running a ridiculous distance.  One larger group of people gathered with posters, and they were noticeably louder.  They were cheering a little more individually for people, singling runners out and speaking directly to them.  It was kind of cool.  I liked these people.  When I noticed them, I swerved to the right, smiled really big, and held up my hand for high fives.  They all eagerly held up their hands for a long line of high fives.  I’m sure I sped up 4 miles per hour at that moment.  It’s amazing how powerful encouragement can be.

The wind was powerful too. It kept coming back.  Between buildings and in areas with no natural barriers, the wind sliced through, bringing a chill to my body wet with sweaty clothes.  The amount of sweat generated in a long run surprised me.  I’m a good sweater anyway, but when I would finish a long run and notice salt deposits on my face and head, that was something I wasn’t used to seeing.  I was glad to have both my shirts on, but now both were holding sweat, and the wind cooled it quickly. 

We ran back up Ocean Boulevard past all the places familiar to me as a kid.  Part of me grew up on this road.  Every summer I was there at least once, but often several times with my family and with others.  I was running past signs and hotel names that seem like childhood friends.  Just past the Gay Dolphin and Ripley’s Believe it or Not, we turned left and headed back inland toward the finish line.  An older lady kept running past me and then walking, running past me and then walking.  It was getting on my nerves.  A white-haired guy in a red shirt seemed to be barely moving and yet he remained in front of me.  Also annoying.  I was cold. I was starting to remember that I had legs, and they were hurting a little.  I run every day on dirt and grass, and the 13 miles of asphalt and concrete were wearing on my knees.  Still, I knew I had more.  I wasn’t worried about not making it.  I knew I could finish, and I didn’t think I was going to die.

I had never finished a half marathon before and didn’t know what to expect.  I knew G and the kids were planning to be at the finish line. They said they’d cheer.  As I rounded the corner and saw the finish line approaching, everyone seemed to be cheering.  I know my brain was not working properly, so I’m sure I wasn’t processing everything normally, but there was a lot to see and hear. My brain seemed to be focusing all its power on keeping me upright.  I crossed the finish line and heard a roar of noise.  Someone handed me a medal.  I stared silently at some kid until he handed me a bottle of water.  I grabbed one of those foil emergency blankets because that’s what I always see people do after a race.  That’s when I heard the kazoos.

The oversized kazoos Blue and Violet had won with their tickets at the arcade were blaring.  I looked over and saw the family stalking me as I made my way from the finish line to the post-race stuff.  They had watched me cross the finish line while cheering and blasting those freakin’ kazoos (much to the dismay of their mother and everyone in earshot around them).  They had to be behind a barrier, so they were walking along the barrier until they could get to me.  I vaguely remember some photos.  There was a finisher shirt all runners were supposed to get after the race, and the promise of free pizza, doughnuts, and beer.  I waited in a line in the still freezing wind to get the shirt.  I had a small piece of cheese pizza that I don’t even remember eating.  There were so many cases of bananas, and all I wanted was a banana, but the bananas were so green I couldn’t even peel one.  At this point I realized I was just being negative, and I needed coffee and food as fast as possible.  On the way to the car in the still chilly morning air, I realized I wanted a hot shower before any of that. 

I had a ripe banana and a water in the car, and I started to feel happier.  After the hot shower, my soul came back to my body. It brought with it the desperate need to have coffee and food.  I made a quick trip to Starbucks and Krispy Kreme before deciding it was time for lunch.  The Crab melt at The Grilled Cheese & Crabcake Company was honestly the best thing I’ve eaten in months.  It was amazing.  The runner’s high was in full swing at this point. I was happy and talkative.  After lunch we went back to the condo and made our way out on the beach.  After a good walk in the sun, (and wind) it was time to go meet our friend Rose for dinner.  Violet and I walked to the steps, dropped our warm outer layers, and ran into the very cold ocean.  She made it to her knees before turning around. I made it about waist deep and went under.  The cold water hurt for a few minutes, but I think it helped my leg muscles recover.  It was exhilarating. 

Another hot shower was justified, and another meal was enjoyed.  In the quieter moments between conversations and meals, my mind was processing the race.  I actually ran a half marathon and didn’t die.  I trained for a half marathon without missing a single day of running 3.1 miles.  I set my mind to something and made it happen.  I took something that I was afraid of and turned it into a fun adventure. 

A week later the world around us seems anxious and stressed.  The thing that we all fear the most, change, is knocking our inboxes around and forcing us to alter our plans.  Many of these things seem out of our control, and that leaves us feeling helpless and afraid.  Y’all, we’ve trained for this.  We know the importance of thinking positive and being kind to those around us.  Some moments we are the fellow runners in this metaphorical race telling each other “good job” as we pass each other or offering a hand to help someone who has tripped.  Other moments we get to stand on the sidewalk and hold up signs while offering a high five to someone who looks tired.   But all of us are going to make it across that finish line.  We are strong.  We are smiling because we know we are badasses.