I lived! in Wallydraigle

  • March 25, 2014, 3:09 a.m.
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  • Public

So I ran 13.1 miles on Saturday morning and did NOT die. It's a miracle! Most of this is going to be super boring to you, but I want to write it down.

  • My primary goal: finish.
  • My secondary goal: beat my friend's first half time (2:25), which she accomplished on a stress fracture, but she's way faster than I am, so I just leave that part out when congratulating myself.
  • My completely fantastical goal, which I assumed was impossible: 2:10, which is a ten minute mile. I have been able to sustain that easily for a few miles at a time, but averaging a ten minute mile uphill over 13 miles was not, in my mind, possible.

I'm not fast, and I'm okay with it, but I was still really excited to make it fifteen seconds UNDER my completely fantastical goal time.

I started the race right next to the 2:10 pacer, but fell behind pretty quickly (it always takes me a couple of miles to warm up). Decent portions of the first part were downhill, though, so I was able to keep him in view. Unfortunately, I peed way too long before the race and had to go again already when it started (sorry, TMI!). Booooo. So at the first set of port-a-potties, I had to stop. I don't know if not stopping would have improved my time or not. I'm guessing not; I think it gave me just enough wind to catch up to the pacer before the first big hill, which went on forever. And ever. And ever.

I had a side stitch for the first half of the race, too. I get those all the time (no idea why; same story when I was swimming for two hours every day, so I don't think it's related to how in shape I am), so I'm kind of used to pushing through it.

One of the great things that happened was that I missed the 4-mile marker, which was right around that first big, extremely discouraging hill. I really need to train for hills more. Anyway, I missed the 4-mile marker and kept wondering how long the race was going to feel if one mile so early on felt like foreeeeeever. Then I saw the 5-mile marker. Yay! It was a huge boost right when I needed it.

The rest was not so bad after that. The scenery in Zion is spectacular. I've seen pictures, but it's the sort of vastness you can't wrap your mind around until you're there in person. It made everything go by so much faster. We have beautiful mountains here, of course, but they're nothing like Zion.

And then the last two miles. They were almost constant uphill. The finish line was at the end of Springdale, which is kind of stretched out in a long strip along the highway. I hit the outskirts and thought, "Yes! Almost done!" and then around every curve... was yet another curve and more hill. The last mile felt like ten. But by that point quitting would have just been stupid, so I trudged on. I passed the 2:00 pacer muttering to himself about crashing and burning and felt a little better about how hard the uphill was for me. If the pacer was struggling, then there really shouldn't be any shame, right? The finish line finally appear, and I *sprinted the last tenth of a mile. My sister missed it, but that oddly made me feel good. She wasn't expecting me for at least another five minutes, so her surprise at seeing me so soon was very satisfying.

So, that's it. We walked a mile and a half back to the hotel and then did some driving around and easy hiking the rest of the day. I really did not want to go out, but my sister and her friend wanted to see the park, and I knew I would regret not going. The walking probably did me a lot of good. By evening, just sitting in the car made me so stiff I had to hobble the first few steps. Imagine if I'd just been still all day. Ow.

My sister is convinced that one day I'll want to do a full marathon, but I am almost certain that is never going to happen. Yes, I would like to be able to tell people I can run 26.2 miles, but nothing else about it appeals to me. A half is just enough of challenge that I can feel like I did something cool without killing myself in training and then again in the race. But... just two years ago I hated (HATED) running, so I'm keeping an open mind.

*"jogged with spirit" is probably more accurate


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