Half Marathon #2/Thanksgiving 2013

This year's Thanksgiving was the coldest one since 1910.  And because I was out there running my second half marathon in the brisk 24 degree air, I can say I commemorated the record-breaking temperatures well.  

The night before the Turkey Day race, I was a bundle of nerves.  The cold had been brutal earlier that day while I was out running errands and the wind cut through to the bones.  Nonetheless, I had trained hard and was going to at least attempt to do this thang.  I figured worst-case scenario, I could veer off course into a warm gas station and call David to come pick me up. Sometimes all you need is to know you have an out to make your brain okay with moving forward.  

I was determined to get more sleep than I did the night before my last half and turned out the light around 10pm.  Unfortunately, I didn't sleep well at all and, in fact, was awake at 3:30am for good.  I left around 6:00am and drove carefully over to the race site, avoiding the icy patches on the roads.  A friend of mine had recommended wearing a black trash bag to hold the heat in.  I skeptically took one along just in case.  As I pulled into a parking space, I saw a guy next to me get out and put one on. "Oh!" I thought.  "This really is a thing.  Okay!"  Turns out he and I were the only two who thought it was a thing.  The haphazard way that I tore it made it even more comical, I'm sure.  I wore it during stretches and then ditched it.  The race was delayed about about ten minutes because they were salting ice on the course (it was fo' REAL cold, y'all.)  I sat in the car as long as possible and then made my way to the start line.  Ready or not...

The first mile or so was tough.  My hands hurt so badly that I was already questioning whether I could make it.  I prayed as I flexed them inside my gloves and the pain subsided by the second mile.  I watched others around me, most barely identifiable as humans under their mounds of clothing, scarves, and hats.  Of course there was one guy in shorts.  There's always one guy.

The mile markers on the course were way off, which made it tough mentally, but my Nike app kept me posted.  I knew pretty early on that I was going to have to make restroom pitstop.  For a runner, the mental anguish of knowing you're going to have to "go" is even worse than the discomfort of having to go.  You start stressing about how long you can wait, where you'll find a potty,  IF you'll find a potty, etc.  It is torturous.  This was a much smaller race than my last so there weren't any port-a-johns along the route.  I finally eyed a BP on the horizon, stopped my watch as I stepped off the course, ran all the way inside and to the bathroom, and had the quickest restroom trip in history.  I restarted my watch as I sprinted back down to the course.  Relief!

With all the time I'd had on my hands the night before, I read some articles and inspirational quotes about running.  One word of advice from a coach stuck in my head:  "Run the first third of your race with your head, the second third with your personality, and the last third with your heart."  I put his advice into play and focused on form and breathing for the first third.  The second third I kept reminding myself how stubborn and determined I am.  The final third was most definitely all heart, as it was the toughest.  

Another thing I realized is that the more I focus outward, the better I do.  When I reached the half-way point and turned around, I began to notice those that were behind me on the other side of the road.  I yelled encouraging words to them and cheered them on and it was amazing how much it helped me.  I imagined how hard they'd worked to get there and what their stories were.  Was this their first half?  Had they lost a bunch of weight?  Were they running to honor someone or specifically for the cause (Children's Healthcare)?  I prayed for their endurance and strength as I passed them.  It dawned on me how much of a metaphor this was for life - the more I shifted away from thinking of myself and my "aches" and began focusing on others, encouraging them, and praying for all of us, the better the race seemed to go.  This very much holds true in my personal everyday life as well.  

But alas, even when I do get a runner's high and an important life lesson, it doesn't carry me forever.  By mile 9 or 10 I was struggling.  My normal pace is between 11:30-12 minute miles (I'm slow, but I get there!)  This race, however, I hadn't had a mile over 11 minutes.  I was booking it to get it over with!  In my training runs, the last mile or two is typically the easiest because I know I'm almost finished.  In this half and my previous one, though, the end has been the hardest because I have pushed so hard through the entire course.  I texted David updates along the last couple of miles and cranked up my music as loud as I could stand it.  I played mental games, prayed for almost everyone I knew, and tried to power through.  The course was much flatter than the last race, so that helped immensely.  Still, 13 miles is a LOOOOOONG way.  Especially in those temps.  My water bottles kept forming ice on the caps and, as unladylike as it is, I became quite familiar with the term "snotscicle."  But hey, if you look pretty when it's over, you didn't work hard enough, right?!

Finally I hit the 12 mile mark.  Around 12.5 miles I increased my speed a little. As the finish line came into view, I strained my eyes  to look for my family.  I saw them bundled up, waving and cheering and my eyes stung with tears as I waved back.  There is nothing -  absolutely nothing - like having the ones you love there to cheer you on as you accomplish one of your biggest and hardest goals.  I envision it on nearly every long run and actually getting to see them at the end of my races has meant the world.  

I crossed the finish line having shaved nearly six minutes off my first half marathon's time.  I was elated.  And cold.  And tired.  But mostly elated.  Again, I praise God for the strength and endurance to make it through.  Never, ever did I think I'd do a half marathon and most certainly not two.  And yet, as we drove to Alabama to celebrate Thanksgiving with David's mom's family, I stared down at the medal in my hand and knew I had.  

We got to David's grandparents' and I immediately jumped in the shower (much to their relief, I'm sure.)  I got cleaned up and we feasted on the usual amazing meal plus several extra dishes his Grandma had slaved over.  Everyone was so sweet in congratulating me and asking about the race and I knew they'd all been praying for my run.  We caught up, laughed over Luke and Audrey's antics, and took a few pictures before Luke and I both laid down for a nap.  I slept for about half an hour and then we all hung out until it was time to hit the road for home around 4:30pm.  

We got back to our house and reheated some leftovers.  After dinner, we decorated our tree while watching the Macy's Tree Lighting.  I cannot explain the overwhelming joy I felt being able to do that in our new home.  As I said on my Thanksgiving TT post, I was so disappointed to miss our tradition last year.  The kids loved playing with their ornaments and Audrey critiqued her homemade ones from last year.  Apparently she doesn't remember her Mama's red solo cup bell. We timed the angel with the tree lighting finale (we know, we are SUCH dorks) and then hurried the kids into their beds.  We crashed not long after they were asleep, fat and happy.

The next day was a flurry of cleaning, decorating, and preparing for Thanksgiving #2 with David's dad's side of the family.  I'm not sure if it has just been awhile since we'd hosted a non-birthday party gathering, but we both completely underestimated how much work we had left to do to pull it off.  Somehow it all came together in the end, though.  Everyone arrived and we ate and ate and ate and talked and talked and talked.  It had been several years since the whole group of us were in the same place at the same time and it was really nice to see everyone together again.  The kids warmed up to everyone almost immediately.  I'm not sure whether they laughed harder or made everyone else laugh harder at them. We capped off the night with the obligatory group picture and everyone left with plenty of their choice foods in tupperware containers and baggies.  We fell into bed tired but happy and were quite thankful we still had two days of the long holiday weekend ahead of us.  

I can't quite remember what we did with the rest of the break, though I know cleaning up, church, playing, decorating, Christmas shopping/wrapping, and at least one nap were a part of it.  It was a wonderful Thanksgiving and every bit of it was enjoyable.  Okay, maybe not that first or ninth mile, but the rest of it was great.  The food was wonderful, as was knowing I earned every bite.  We loved seeing all of David's family and I loved hearing the voices of mine.  Such a great day!  Like the temps, it was definitely one for the record books.