Running a Half Marathon

This Sunday I ran the ING Distance run, which was a half marathon. Running was something completely new for 2008; I was never very good at it—awful, in fact—and I decided it was high time to do something about it. So over the course of the year, I built up my stamina from barely being able to run a full mile, to doing a 5k, to doing the Broad Street run (10 miles) in May. Still high off completing the broad street run, I decided to sign up for a half marathon. Afterall, how much worse could an extra three miles be?

A lot worse, as it turns out. The Broad Street run is about the easiest 10 miles one could possibly run; perfectly straight, no hills, and a slight downhill grade from start to finish. This, on the other hand, was 13 "real" miles, with elevation changes, corners to turn, and so on. Also, whereas the Broad Street Run had the novelty factor of my first ever "long" run going for it, this one didn't.

I had put together a playlist on my phone that ran 2.5 hours; a little bit longer than I figured I needed, but better too many songs than to run out five minutes from the finish line. I must say, the playlist was absolute key to my being able to finish. I set it up with relaxing songs up front so I didn't overdo it on the first few miles, and then "power" songs towards the end to get me over the finish line.

Before I talk about the actual race, let me just say that one of my favorite parts of these running events is that it really does show that there's still a good side left to humanity. The fact that all these people volunteer to help make the event go smoothly, and that everyone encourages one another, really does warm your heart a little bit. So, if you have ever volunteered at a race and you're reading this, thanks. You rule.

Anyway. Once I got away from the start line (10 minutes after the gun went off), I kept a nice steady pace, not concerned with all the folks who were passing me. I knew that if I exerted myself too much in the first three miles, I'd run out of gas way before the 13 mile mark.

The first three miles were nice and easy, which in retrospect is an accomplishment for me in and of itself. It's important to remember that this time last year, I couldn't even dream of running three miles, let alone not even getting out of breath doing so. Anyway, I was keeping an easy 11 minute/mile pace and wasn't remotely out of breath. In fact, things stayed pretty easy until I hit West River Drive, which was about the 6 mile mark. 6 miles was the farthest I had gone on any of my practice runs, so anything from there out was uncharted territory. My legs were starting to get a little tired, but nothing I couldn't handle. I made my first stop for some sports drink around the 7 mile mark, and slowed to a walk as I drank it. Walking felt really good, but as soon as I threw the cup away, I went back to my steady jog.

They were also giving out Powerbar Gel at the water station. Knowing that I was starting to get tired, I figured I'd take one and eat it, even though I had never tried one before. Well, now I know why they say never try new things on race day. I took a nice big squeeze of the gel into my mouth, and holy shit, I almost choked. I looked down and the package said "vanilla", but it honestly tasted like what I imagine a big mouthful of spooge would taste like. Tried both? Feel free to leave a comment letting me know if I'm near the mark. Anyway, since it was a thick gel, I couldn't easily spit it out, so I had to work it all down over the next few hundred feet. Gross.

By the time I hit the Falls Bridge--about 8.5 miles--things started to get difficult. I was still keeping my head above water, but the temptation to treat myself to walking a little was getting stronger and stronger. Nonetheless, I pressed on. Also, at this point, I noticed that many of the other runners I had found myself with were skewing older and not in the best of shape. Great.

The last leg of the run was from the Falls River Bridge all the way up Kelly Drive, which is a run I've made tens of times this year with no problem. However, I had never done it after already running nine miles beforehand. My body was starting to register some soreness in both knees, my feet were starting to hurt, and my legs were feeling tired in general. My cardio was holding up OK; I wasn't breathing that heavy and my heart rate seemed stable enough, but around mile 9, keeping up a steady jog went from kinda hard to genuinely hard.

I made another sports drink stop somewhere around mile 10, and again walked as I drank it. This time though, walking felt blissful, like little angels were massaging my legs. Knowing I'd never start up again if I got used to it, I didn't even finish the sports drink, and put myself back into the now tiresome jog.

Around mile 11, as exhaustion set in, I credit three things with keeping me going along Kelly Drive. One, of course, was sheer willpower, and just forcing myself to keep going. Two was that I was now into the hard rock / metal portion of my playlist; I defy anyone to give up when Welcome to the Jungle is blasting at full volume. And third was some blonde chick, probably about 5'10" with an ass that could have been sculpted by Jesus himself, who was just ahead of me and keeping a pace that I could sustain. I ultimately passed her, but the distraction proved enough to keep my mind off how miserable I was getting.

Since my runs usually end at the boathouses, I had forgotten just how nasty the hill going up to the art museum is, and it really kicks your ass when you're struggling to keep going. By that point, I was literally running on empty. I remember getting to the top of the hill and almost panicking when I couldn't see the finish line. As it turns out, I still had a little ways to go down the parkway, then do a 180 and head back to the art museum. At that point, I think the only thing that kept me going was knowing what a complete and utter zero I'd be if I had run for 13 miles, then petered out for the last tenth. Having the course lined with spectators probably helped too.

I didn't even see the clock when I crossed the finish line; it literally took all my effort just to stay upright. I finished in 2 hours and 30 minutes. That's not a great time, but I literally gave it everything I had just to finish without stopping. At very least, I can say that I finished a half marathon. And that, unlike my sore knees and hips, is something I'll have for the rest of my life.