The Battlefield

It was a dark and stormy morning...the masses were aligned, anxiously awaiting the signal...The wave of movement commenced. The battle had begun. Strewn along the path lied the carcasses of trampled paper cups, the streets running red with their blood...

Okay, so it was just Powerade, and it wasn't so dramatic, but it's high time the end of the half-marathon story was told! I will confess, I was a little nervous about how it would turn out...My "training" wasn't really consistent, and it wasn't really training. Honestly, I'd never run more than 6 miles prior to the race, and there was even some walking scattered throughout than mile-marker. Then when I got there and realized a half-marathon was 13.1 miles...!? In addition, when we drove into Nashville the day before the race, it was hot and it was muggy! Throw in a little exertion and it was a dangerous combo for me.

(Although I look it, I'm really not ticked in this picture. My friend Cara decided to scare me as I came out of the bathroom and this is my pre-scream face)



Miraculously, however, the perfect race was brewing...




The morning of the race a good rainstorm came through and finished just before my corral started cooling everything off and giving us a nice cloud cover. It did make for horrible traffic, and we had to practically push our experienced-runner friend out of the car as we drove by the starting line so he could start with his corral.



Additionally, the same experienced-runner friend surprised us novices with super-duper running socks the night before the race. I attribute any success to those socks. They have superpowers.




It's amazing how much easier it is to run when there's bands playing on every corner, and people lined up on the streets cheering for you! After the first few miles, I did realize that if I kept the pace I had, my poor little legs wouldn't make it up all the hills; so I risks breaking from my running buddy (who was in much better shape than myself) and decided to walk up the hills, and run the rest of the way. It appeared to be a good system as I'd alternately pass and be passed by a father/daughter combo throughout the race.

All that teamed with orange slices, cups of water and Powerade, some of which actually made it into my mouth, and complete strangers cheering "Go BYU!" I not only made it over the finish line, but I finished in 2 hours and 22 minutes on the dot! Will I ever do it again...probably not...but a triathlon on the other hand...

(Curtis and me while we waited/searched for Cara who actually was sitting at the waiting line for 1.5 hours, not realizing I had been right behind her, thinking I'd given up exhausted and angry...)

(Reunited at last!!!!)

The favorite post-race pasttime as we forced ourselves to go sightseeing and not sit in the hot tub for the rest of the day was Spot-The-Runner. We could pick them out of a crowd from a mile away, waddling along in a painful bow-legged fashion. I've never felt such a bond to complete strangers...