This was a crazy race! My goal for the day was to break my time from last year.
This was a big day for my family: I had two sisters and a brother running the 1/2 and my mom ran the full. It was very cool to share the pre-race and post-race activities with them.
My sisters were instrumental in convincing our dad to drive us up to the start of the half marathon, which was a huge blessing given the rainy conditions. We arrived with just over an hour to hit the potties and do a little warm up. My clothes were drenched before throwing them into my drop bag. I ran into Ken before the race and we talked about running together--I was looking forward to a running buddy given the wet conditions.
We had a few announcements to head toward the starting line. I was grateful to have been close when I heard a few runners around me say "That's it. We are supposed to start." and they began to run. Apparently, somebody on the megaphone said to start, but the large majority of runners never heard the announcement. I fully expected somebody to call us back; surely that couldn't have been the official start. It was just weird. I didn't see Ken anywhere near the start and could only imagine how bugged he must have felt. I took the lead within the first 100 meters and besides looking back and seeing Ken about 30 seconds behind me before heading down the canyon, I didn't see anybody else the rest of the race.
A lead bike joined me at the canyon and I was glad that I wouldn't have to worry about staying on the right path--this turned out to be a misguided thought.
I ran the tangents down the canyon. At first I made efforts to avoid the puddles, but after a while, my shoes were so soaked that I just ran straight through them.
My first missed turn was at the mouth of the canyon. The construction made the trail a bit difficult to see. The lead bike took off down a road to the left and I followed him. A few police officers yelled at me that I had missed the trail and pointed me back to the trail head. I circled back and was frustrated that nobody had been there to direct me. I realized that it was my bad to not remember this. My frustration really impacted my drive to keep pushing, and I just settled in to a cruising pace.
After passing mile 12 the course takes a sharp right, a quick left, and another left for the long straightaway to the finish line. There were cones everywhere at the final left turn and the lead bike missed it. I followed. We were a whole block west of the turn when the guy on lead bike turned around and said, "You were supposed to turn left back there. You will need to work your way back to the right road." I had mostly let go of my frustration for the first missed turn and for him not indicating the correct path. This missed turn really pushed a button and I yelled at him: "You are supposed to know the course!" He took off and left me. I felt really defeated. I knew that there was no way to meet my goal--my average pace meant it would be close anyway. Adding on an additional .25+ miles felt so frustrating. I was certain that Ken would have passed. I checked out mentally.
When I hit the main road, I didn't see anybody. I assumed that Ken was already near the finish and just coasted in. As I approached the finish, I saw people holding the tape stretched across the finish line. I realized that I hadn't been passed and finished with a little renewed pep in my step--still frustrated by the wrong turns and missing my goal. Expectations are a funny thing--I realize that my own expectations were what caused me to feel like the race had not been as much of a success as I had planned.
Looking back, I wish that I would have been more grateful for the volunteers at the finish line and less frustrated with what had happened. Ken wasn't very far behind. We both talked about the crazy start, the downpour we ran in, and how grateful we were not to be running the full marathon. There were several times along the way that I stopped feeling sorry for myself in the wind and rain and thought about the people running twice as far as me.
Looking back on my splits, it appears that my conditioning was in a very similar place as last year. I feel that the rain and wind, not having Bryant and Riley pulling me, and the frustrations with the missed turns lead to a bit slower average pace. I am sore today, but not as sore as I was after the race last year.
The activities after the race to try and stay warm were another adventure in and of themselves. Ken was freezing cold, but worked for 30-40 minutes to assist the very chaotic efforts of the volunteers responsible for getting drop bags back to the runners--he is a class act through and through.
After getting in to some dry clothes and missing most of the top finishers of the marathon, I returned to the finish area to see a lot of friends come in. I celebrated with some and commiserated with others depending on how the race went. I ran back up the course for a couple of miles to wait for my mom. I ran the final two miles with her. Her legs were cramping, but she kept motoring to the finish--super inspiring to me.
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