The Half Marathon

On Sunday, February 6th, I completed my first half marathon, the annual Tallahassee Half Marathon.  13.1 miles. Yay me!  The night before the race, this is how my conversation went with my nine-year-old daughter, Noodle:

Me:  Tomorrow is the day of the big race!

Noodle:  You're going to be in a race?  Like a real race?

Me:  Wellll...It's a real race, and I'll be racing against other people, I just won't really be trying to beat them.

Noodle:  Why wouldn't you try to beat them?  What's the point of that??


As it turns out, there was a truth to Noodle's point of view.  Hours later, I would be standing amongst the crowd of runners at the starting line, feeling the twinge of competitiveness growing in my bones.  I wanted to run fast.  I wanted to do well.  And oh, dear Lord, please don't let me be last.

At the starting line, we were separated into three groups according to our pace, with the fastest people in front, the medium speed people behind them, and the inchworms in the back.  I placed myself in the last group, feeling pretty realistic.  My friend, Angie, who had only recently healed a broken foot and was currently suffering from the flu, was also in that group next to me.  She gave me the "see ya later" wave as a shot fired off the start of the race.  I waved back and secretly hoped I could at least beat my sickly friend.

The runners began flowing down the FSU campus road like a disturbed anthill.  I stepped over the starting line with deliberance, quickly pondering how the whole "tag" system works.

These tags are given to each runner.  It has a chip inside it that registers your race time as you pass over the start and finish lines.  Most people tie them to their shoelaces.  I didn't have any, so I put it on my ankle with a rubber band.

Beginning the race was very exciting!  I was running fast and so was everyone else.  It was a cold clear morning, about 35 degrees.  We were winding a bit through the FSU campus before hitting the St. Marks Trail, then looping back to finish at the FSU Mike Long Track.  Not everyone was running a half marathon though, some would split off near our turn-around and take on the full marathon, circling through the Southwood community, and then returning to our path to finish in the same place.

About four miles into it, I warmed up enough to take my jacket and gloves off. (It was still quite cold, though.)  I tossed them to the side, along with all the other discarded clothing items from runners.  Apparently, volunteers collect them into a big pile after the race to either be donated or for you to search through for your lost things.  I donated.




Me, number 351, nearing the half-way turn-around.  I'm smiling because it hasn't gotten hard yet. 
Yet. 

I chatted with people along the way to pass the time.  There were people from everywhere in the U.S. and from all walks of life.  However, everyone I talked to was older than me, faster than me, and at least on their nine hundred and twenty third race...this year.  Seriously though, one woman I talked to was 53 years-old, had done marathons all over the world, and had just finished the Miami Marathon last weekend before coming up to Tallahassee for the half marathon.  Wow.  She was serious inspiration. 

Somewhere around mile 10, I suddenly felt like my legs were made of concrete.  I'd been grabbing a cup-full of Gatorade at every aid station, I'd slurped down the gel packet that was supposed to give me fuel to burn, but none of that seemed to matter.  I could hear Dory from Finding Nemo singing in my head "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, what do we do? we swimmmm..."  Needless to say, the last 3.1 miles were not very fun.  I just kept putting one foot in front of the other and watched the old guy wearing a turtle costume zip past me. 

My hands got very cold and numb, possibly because all of the blood in my body was working on trying to keep my legs from falling off, and certainly making me wish I hadn't tossed my gloves.  Outside of the track stadium, I pulled out my phone and texted the words "almost...........there........." to Seth with my unresponsive nub of a pointer finger.  I couldn't even manage to put my phone back in the case.  I held it in my hand the rest of the way.

Just keep swimming, just keep swimming.........


Entering into the stadium and onto the track was like a breath of fresh air.  I'm almost done!  Strangers lined the edges of the track cheering--for me, even.  The atmosphere was enough to bring a huge smile to my face, but not enough to break the concrete feeling from my legs.  I'd had grandiose plans to kick it into high gear, giving it all I had to cross the finish line, but apparently this turtle's pace was all I had.  At least I was still moving, right?

Hopers ran along beside me to cheer me on.

The moment of truth:  I crossed the finish line!  Really, that was my goal when I started all this in the first place--to finish.  I also wasn't last.  AND I even made a much better time than I thought I would!

I ran the half marathon in 2 hours and 25 minutes which, incidentally, was only three minutes faster than this guy....

 ...who won the full marathon.

I'm pretty darn proud of my time though.  I'm also pretty darn sure I won't be winning any marathons any time soon.

My friend Angie crossed the finish line also.  Annoyingly, she caught up a lot of the early distance I put between us.  I need to find some slower friends.

I collected my finisher's medal and proudly shuffled in an awkward way to the car with my family.  We went out for pizza and then went home.  I wasn't able to walk, sit or squat for the next two days, but hey...

I did it!. 

And I wasn't last.