The demand for details on the Half-Marathon I ran last Sunday have been overwhelming, if you count two people asking as 'overwhelming'.
I think it was Caesar who said 'I came, I saw, I conquered,' and Meatloaf who included 'two out of three ain't bad' in a song.
When you put them together, I came to Manchester, New Hampshire, I saw the best managed race event of my ten year running career, but I could not conquer the hills. Two out of three ain't bad.
As you might guess, looking at the elevation graphic above, I flew through the first half of the event, on a personal record pace, and did a lot of walking in the second half. If you missed the elevation map, look again.
A woman who parked next to me, as we were leaving the parking area said something like 'that was the first half-marathon I've run that was all uphill.' I agreed with her, or at least it seemed like that because the hills seemed long and the descents seemed short.
After I finished and got my free mask and an apple. I was just pleased that I could still walk, and not as sore as you might expect, or quite frankly, as I might expect. Let me put it this way: several days later, I don't groan (much) when I walk.
It was an event where everyone started socially distanced two at a time, and wove through the city streets, parks, rail trails and the neighborhoods of Manchester. I had a great time, didn't struggle with feet, knees, hips or breathing, and chatted with many of the police officers and volunteers on the route, mostly asking 'are we there yet?' which brought more than one smile.
Several people passed me and a half dozen commented on the back of my shirt which reads" I run because I can." Every time it happened I thought about how lucky I was and about those in my world who cannot run. I really do run because I can.
There weren't many spectators, but I had several shout outs to 'Kathy's Team' and that reminded me of my secret weapon. My brother Paul found me on the route twice, once for a high five- before the photo above, and another time, about six miles later, to give me crap for walking up a hill. Well deserved crap.
On Sunday, running uphill was much more than a metaphor, and as much as I enjoyed the event, and as well as it was produced, I can guarantee you, I will never, ever, run this Mt. Everest course again. That would be stupid and I believe the jury decided I was brave.
As I ran down the home stretch, the last 250 yards on Elm Street past City Hall, I finally had a little touch of emotion, you know the 'I can't believe it did it again' moment when I realized that life inside the barricades was worth the effort, and since it was too far to go alone, I said a silent prayer of thanks and crossed the finish line with my arms raised like I had won something. Because, in my mind, I had.
On the 70 mile drive home with an order of Dunkin Snackin' Bacon for replenishing protein next to me, and a large coffee in my right hand, my deep side came out.
Almost unbelievably, I thought, I had close to zero anxiety about this event, a far cry from my first race at this distance. I wonder if there could be something to that 'experience' thing or the 'preparation' mantra that some espouse? I simply had no doubt that I was going to finish this event. None. I wasn't overconfident, but as they say in the business: I had done the work.
Sure, my fourth Half-Marathon was my slowest. But only by a few minutes. Did I mention the hills? Trust me, my slower time did not impact my self-esteem in the least.
BY THE NUMBERS
Remember 'it is the journey' right? Here are some journey numbers as I wrap up the running and writing season and year:
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30,544--Sunday's event, from walking to the start line and then back to the car after the event, reached more than 30,000 steps. FYI, I missed a toenail with the emery board at 5:30 am. Had a little issue after the race.
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450.8--In 2019, my total running mileage, including training runs and races reached 287 miles by November. This year I ran my 450th mile as I crossed the finish line in downtown Manchester. That is the equivalent of running from Boston to Washington DC and then doing 20 laps around the Mall.
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95--Leading up to the event, I had completed 95 individual training runs. That's the number of specific days that I taped my knee, stretched in the driveway and headed out, in temperatures ranging from 32 degrees to 95 degrees. An average workout of more than 4 miles per run. The shortest was 2 miles, the longest was 10 miles. I averaged about ten training runs a month.
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4--This year, I purchased four pairs of Hoka running shoes and I wore three of them out. I wear out the heels because of the way my foot strikes the pavement. I was running on the fourth pair, two week old shoes, so they felt great.
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3--There were three runners in the field of almost 600 who were older than me. Three runners. In case you didn't know, you get old fast, and that number is a reminder that I am NOT prematurely gray.
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2:50:19--I finished the event in 2 hours 50 minutes and 19 seconds. That was only 9 minutes slower than I ran last year in Boston. Did I mention the hills? The great news for me about the 'failure' to run my personal best is that if I could do what I did this year on that course, watch out 2021 because I will find a race with no hills and do even better.
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0--No injuries, no regrets, no big recovery period where I don't want to see a sneaker. I left nothing on the course, and gave it my all because I was all in.
However, I'm not doing this again until we get a hot tub, because I really needed one after the race, but I took a nap instead. And of course, I slept like a Sunday Morning Champion. Thanks, Kathy.
