My First Half-Marathon

New Year’s Day 2012 I decided to go the completely typical route and challenge myself physically by signing up for a half-marathon.  My first half-marathon.  My first set of double-digit miles would now be firmly set under my running belt.

I was going great. I was training like a mother.  I felt amazing and lost 10 lbs.

Then I got pneumonia in March and lost about three weeks of training and my brain decided to fill me with self-doubt.  The month of April was all about coming back, getting back to doing hills, adding mileage and trying to get those long runs in.  I didn’t get to them nearly as much as I needed and wanted.

It didn’t matter. I did that half-marathon on Sunday.

5:30 a.m. H and I were out the door with our mugs of coffee, GU and other supplies.  We drove to Colonial Williamsburg where the race would begin and I looked around me at the other runners. They all seemed so serious.  There were so many types of bodies and people but all of them seemed so focused.  Is this what a half-marathon does?  Does it separate people who run occasionally to those that are serious, devoted runners?

7 a.m. and the race had begun.  The first three miles were all within the confines of Colonial Williamsburg.  The Run for the Dream Half-Marathon supports Wounded Warriors and Army soldiers were on the sides of the course cheering the runners on and waving signs.  Sleepy kids holding security blankets and stuffed into strollers lined the sides with parents there to cheer Mom or Dad on as they ran by.  ‘Make Some Noise’ by the Beastie Boys rang through my ears as I found my zone and kept pace with the 2:15 group.

The first 6 miles flew by.  I could hardly believe it as the course moved onto the hilliest part of the race.  Miles 6-11 was a set of rolling hills and I was still making good time. Around mile 7, I saw H pass me by as he had already completed the mile 8 turn around. I was feeling fine and in love with the scenery of creeks, lush trees and the York River.  It was beautiful! At the mile 8 turn around the sun was up and beating down.  I ate some GU pressed onward towards the bitch that became mile 9, which was all up hill.  And so was mile 10.  Somewhere between mile 10 and 11 my right knee wobbled and felt as if would give out.  This was something I had never experienced and I had to dig my nails into the palms of my hands to focus beyond the pain.  I said a prayer, listened to my music blaring out everything from Pink to James Brown and Foster the People.

The pain.  The mist that started to come down.  The wind that whipped up and the continuous uphill curves that just never freakin’ ended.  This was the last two miles.  Having only done 10 miles as my longest run (and only once) this was new to me and my knee was really causing some problems. I had to slow down and walk for the first time and it made me mad. I would try to run and just fail.  If the course was flat I was OK, any incline or decline and it was too much on my knee.  I started yelling at myself and my stupid knee for killing my time. I know I’m not fast, but now I was never going to make the 2:15 time.

Hitting the William & Mary campus, the end of the run, I saw the mile 12 ‘Achievement Mile’ sign.  “Uh, yeah…” I was just so sick of the twists and turns of the course and my knee that was forcing me to walk more than run.  Where was the end of this thing?!  I knew H would be waiting at the finish line. I just had to find it.  The course seemed to be deserted and I wondered if I was that slow.  So slow that I was the only one left.  I knew that it couldn’t be possible but where was everyone?  I passed a slew of port-o-potties and there it was the stadium! The end of the race!

And a dark tunnel to run through as I entered that almost tripped me up and then the track that I had to run around.  What went through my mind as I broke through to this last lap?  “Are you f*ckin’ kidding me?! You a**holes! You are going to make me run a lap on a track?! That’s my finish? Like high school?!  UGH!”  I was not pleased.  Then I saw a man in his 70’s next to me in electric green shorts and a red and white polka-dotted bandana and I thought, “No way am I coming in after him!”  So I ran as fast as I could and I heard someone yell, “Way to finish strong, Victoria!”  as I crossed the finish line and received my medal and bottle of water.

Time 2 hours, 36 minutes and 10 seconds.  That’s an 11:55 per mile pace.

And that’s why I’ll do it again.  I want to beat that time. I want to fix my knee and get stronger and be better.  I did my half-marathon.

My FIRST, but not my last.

I’m still not a wounded antelope. And I’ll be doing another 10k with Zooma on June 2. I can’t wait!