oh hai!: thirteen point one

Last Sunday we ran the San Jose Rock & Roll half marathon and I didn't die!

I want you to really think about what we've just done. For any couch pototoes in the crowd, imagine settling into your ideal spot and turning on your favorite DVD. Imagine watching the previews, which you've seen approximately 84 times. Imagine watching the whole movie, which you probably know line-by-line. Imagine sitting idle while the credits roll, alllllll the way until the lion roars at the very, very end. Now, imagine that instead of watching the movie with your popcorn and Junior Mints, you were RUNNING FOR THAT ENTIRE TWO-AND-A-HALF HOURS. That's what we've just done. Three months ago, I probably didn't have the endurance to sit for that long, much less run!

Based on the fact that I hadn't really intended on running a half marathon or even considered it until approximately 26 days before the event, I'd been feeling super-anxious about the whole thing. Trying to calm myself down was difficult. I still have no idea what I was getting worked up about. I know I wanted to do well and wanted to make the whole experience a positive one, but felt really nervous that it wouldn't go well. Maybe it was the crap runs I'd barely made it through in the week before the race. Maybe it was that I'd only semi-secretly never run more than 6 miles, and that 13.1 is a helluva lot further. It probably has something to do with my perfectionism. I dunno. Logically I knew that I could literally walk the entire course and still make it to the finish line before they came out and carted my ass off the course for exceeding the time limit, but still...

We'd visited the pre-race expo on Friday to pick up our bibs and some swag, and Rob signed up to run it! He's got wonky knees and was playing the whole thing by ear...we got turned onto the glories of RockTape and it gave him the boost he needed to commit to the big event!

After a bit of early-evening bowling on Saturday, we all went home and attempted to crash. Summer and Chambers fell victim to our asshole loud neighbors and I tossed and turned a lot with my earplugs in. Bleary-eyed and just a teeny bit edgy, we all hit the road bright and early to get our asses downtown. The train was packed with other half marathon-ers, which pumped me up and freaked me out. That lady will not - nay, can not - beat me. Because perceived competition helps in solo sports, right?! My shoelaces are waaaaay more flourescent than that guy's shirt...it'll totally help me run fast and strong. They are rad, by the way...the most eye-accosting green I could find. What if I fall down, like that girl did on a training run?! Pshhah - what're the odds of that?!

After port-o-pottying, bib-pinning, gear-checking, and starting-line-scoping, Sum, Rob and I made our way to the corrals and met up with our favorite mama, Rebecca. Holy cattle call, Batman. So. Many. People. So much spandex.

I'm not nervous...you're nervous.

The energy in the corral was intense, and the event's MCs (?) were definitely caffeinated. Other runners were sporting tutus and goofy socks and homemade t-shirts and support ribbons. Rob spotted and loved one shirt's quote in particular, which I think we both used as extra fuel:

someday, I won't be able to do this.

today is not that day.

Although I didn't get my promised flyby - bang, we were off! The beginning of my run felt good, like any other warm up. It usually takes me 2 solid miles to get the knots loosened up and really hit my stride, and I was hyper-focused on not overdoing it and running too hard, too soon. My goal was to finish the race, period. I planned to listen to my body, stay hydrated and to power-walk as I moved through each water station. If that got to be too tough, I would run 10-12 minutes, then walk for one and repeat. The four of us had planned start the race together and then find our own paces, which worked out really well.

I've got to admit, the whole thing went waaaaaaaaay faster than I'd ever expected. By my watch, my split times were right on par with the 10k race, and I felt steady and controlled. In hindsight, I don't think I ever found my strongest stride. My Achilles were killing me by mile seven, and I think I'd been trying to keep my run too slow. I started to pick it up a bit and flick my ankles more to use more muscles, but even then I still kinda held myself back a smidgen too much. Meh...that just gives me something to work on for the next one.

Some random guy had mentioned that mile eight was his hardest point, and to nevereverever stop at mile eight because you'd never get started again. Eff THAT. Mile eight was cake. It was also the furthest I'd ever consecutively run at that point (eek!). Just five more miles. Mile ten to eleven was a lifetime, and I asked myself "am I even actually moving?!" about a hundred times between mile eleven and twelve.

The bands and cheerleaders and random onlookers were really fun, and provided a fabulous distraction from running for two-and-a-half straight hours. As I neared what I figured was the last half-mile, I remember hearing from a supporter that there were just four blocks left. Then, and only then, did I finally find my stride. I cranked up my music and my ipod skipped right to one of my top running jams...boom, kismet. I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel awesome. My absolute favorite solo moment of the day was turning that last corner and seeing the finish line looming about a hundred yards away. It sounds silly, but that's when I was most proud of myself for taking on the challenge and kicking. its. ass. hard.