Marathoned

So I finished a half marathon. Essentially my baseline time is set, so from here on out I will be a failure if I don't improve on the time. That time, mind you, was 2 hours, 50 minutes. I know what I said before "2 hours." After seeing how fast a pace that would be, I realized I was sadly mistaken. In my mind, I upped it to something more reasonable, like, 2.5 hours. So 2:50 ain't all that bad. I also didn't train nearly as much as I should have. Like, following a schedule and all that. Maybe next time. Anyway, here's how the day played out:

Leave house at about 6:20 a.m. The paperwork said to be in the corrals at 7, race would start at 7:30. I got downtown, parked, went to the bathroom and started following all the other runners. Turns out things were more lax than I thought. I hadn't brought a watch because at each mile they give you the elapsed time. So the only thing I had on me was a timing chip and my VW key looped into my shoelaces (this worked out very well.) I also had the iPod shuffle and a hat. I thought the clouds would bust open to rain, so I wanted a cover.

Because of Nick's time in the 15K that he ran in my name, I was in Corral L out of uh, I think all 26 letters pretty much. The folks around me had done something like 8:30-9:15/miles on the 15k. I mentally prepared myself for all the passing that would ensue.

And we're off. Not sure of the time, but whatever. A quick walk turned into a quick shuffle turned into my race pace (probably the "jog" of others.) I crossed under the start gate at 10:45 elapsed. So, from each mile marker, I'd have to subtract that. Later, I found simple math was getting tricky, so subtracting 10 or 11 would work well.

Mile 1. I've already got to pee. I see some people ducking off into the woods, but I'm thinking I'll get caught or slip on urine. That would be mighty horrid. I decide to wait until the first rest stop.

After about 2 miles (I'm still running, yay!) the porta-johns show up. I wait about a minute for one, then go running off like I know what I'm doing. The scenery isn't all that interesting. Most of the course goes through somewhat rundown areas. I think they feel the whole point is to get you to the Brickyard and back.

After mile 4, I walk for a little bit, taking a water break. I'm not feeling too bad, and while there are still people passing me, I'm getting past slower runners and a bunch of walkers. My pace at this point is still something 11-minutes per mile, so I'm pretty happy.

Mile 5. I decide to do some more walking. The thinking is that I'd like to run all the way (2.5 miles) around the Brickyard. Although I know this is somewhat unrealistic, it seems like a nice idea. As we get in front of the massive stadium, I jog on in.

It's a little disheartening to see people leaving the racetrack as I and hundreds around me are entering. But whatever. Also, seeing the winner of the race on the jumbotron at the track (after one hour and a little change) was annoying.

I run for about a half mile then it's back to walking. I can feel myself running out of gas now. The legs are starting to feel just a little heavy. I hit up some more water and gatorade and mix up the running and walking. I try to look around as much as possible, because hell, I'm walking on one of the most historical racetracks in the world!

As I slowly ran out of the track, I notice that there were ... hundreds of people streaming in. Most are walking and maybe jogging, but hey, at least I won't be the very last person. I had this idea that the group would maybe thin out after a while. But no. Turns out that when you run 13.1 miles with 35,000 people, there will be several thousand in front and behind you at all times.

Out of the stadium we cross Mile 9 and then 10. This is when the trouble starts. My legs start cramping up something fierce. I stop to stretch. Still cramped. I hobble along. Stretch slower and longer. Better. I also noticed that with the water and gatorade, it took a little while to absorb. That is, if I kept on running right after, my stomach would feel terrible. So now I was loading up on gatorade (when I left the track I was actually hungry), letting it go down and then trying to run. Well, after the cramping bit, another problem surfaced. Namely the chafing in my chest area. That is, my nipples were causing a lot of discomfort. I remembered seeing something about this before. Like, using lotion or bandaids or whatever. I hadn't thought of this. And now it was kicking my ass.

Between 10 and 13 I was walking about 70% and running 30%. Things got pretty bad. However, the actual race was still amusing ... we ran by two bars that were giving away beer in small cups. And yes, people were taking them. I guess they do this sort of thing every year. I also saw two people get carried off on stretchers, so I was happy to at least still be going. The best sign that I saw during the run was "At least it's not a marathon."

When I passed 12, I did some quick math (or tried really hard to) and figured that as long as I did the last mile in 25 minutes or less, I would finish in under three hours, my new goal. So that made me happy.

The last half mile seemed to take an eternity, but since there were thousands lined up on either side of the street, I decided that I should probably make a run for it. I saw the clock just click past 3 hours when I crossed.

My 13-minute miles certainly aren't impressive, but considering what went into it, I guess I'm somewhat pleased. I'm not sure if this is the distance for me or not ... I think I might want to try a few more 10K runs and then eventually work up to a more decent pace.