In late 2007, I decided to get a little more serious about running and in a late-night, popcorn-fueled, missing-my-husband frenzy, I signed up for the inaugural Marine Corps Historic Half. This was quite ambitious, since my distance record at this point was once, just once, running six miles.
I flew to Virginia and stayed with a very nice NRP in my life, Shelby. She went with me to the expo on Saturday, and the actual race was on Sunday. I had never even watched a half marathon, much less been to an expo. It was so overwhelming! I was surrounded by Marines and other uber-fit types who were chatting merrily about how they ran 38 miles last weekend just for fun, and they were all laughing about this T-shirt that said:
Toenails are for Sissies
(Which I totally did not understand.)
So, I'm dragging Shelby around this expo, looking at all the Fabulous Fit people and comparing them to my own short, stubby self, and it happens.
First, my hands started shaking, to the point I couldn't pick up a cute necklace that had a 13.1 charm on it. "Huh, would you look at this?" I said to Shelby, holding out my quivering hands. "Are you freaking out?" she replied. "No, I feel pretty calm." And I did FEEL calm in my head, but my body was launching into full fight-or-flight mode.
Second, I announced that it was so stinking HOT in the convention center and took off the very light jacket I had worn. Shelby said, "What is up with you?" and I realized I had sweated through my shirt. I wiped my forehead -- dripping like I had been sprinting.
So, I'm dragging Shelby around this expo, looking at all the Fabulous Fit people and comparing them to my own short, stubby self, and it happens.
First, my hands started shaking, to the point I couldn't pick up a cute necklace that had a 13.1 charm on it. "Huh, would you look at this?" I said to Shelby, holding out my quivering hands. "Are you freaking out?" she replied. "No, I feel pretty calm." And I did FEEL calm in my head, but my body was launching into full fight-or-flight mode.
Second, I announced that it was so stinking HOT in the convention center and took off the very light jacket I had worn. Shelby said, "What is up with you?" and I realized I had sweated through my shirt. I wiped my forehead -- dripping like I had been sprinting.
Shelby wisely announced, "I'm getting you out of here." Whereupon she took me directly to the nearest restaurant and demanded to know, at 11:30am, if the bar was open.
Two margaritas and one of these:
...and I was feeling much, much better. Not the wisest choice of food and drink on the day before a half marathon, but I swear it was purely medicinal.
...and I was feeling much, much better. Not the wisest choice of food and drink on the day before a half marathon, but I swear it was purely medicinal.
After my mini panic attack on Saturday, I was eerily calm on Sunday for the half marathon. My time was nothing amazing. If you, dear reader, ever run this race, DO NOT BE FOOLED by the elevation map. Rolling hills throughout and a brutal set of uphills at the end slowed everyone down. When I crossed the finish and a Marine gave me my medal, I almost cried... Though I'm not sure if I was happy to get the medal or just so glad the torturefest was over.
After the race, I only had time to take a shower before I hobbled onto my flight home. After resisting the temptation to request a wheelchair at my destination airport, I still had to drive an hour to get home. Once I arrived, I called my husband from the car to come out and help me, because I was too stiff to even get out of the car unassisted.
Fast forward to today: I've run a total of 5 half marathons. I know what "negative splits" means. I get that T-shirt slogan now. In November, I went dancing after completing a half.
And, I save the adult beverages for after the race.
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