After two weeks, I still find it hard to believe I actually finished the Athens Half Marathon. It seems a bit like an out of body experience. It's still hard to think that I can run 13.1 miles and finish smiling.
6:30 AM: We arrive at the start, and I immediately head for the porta-potties. It's still pitch dark outside, which makes that a scary experience. I'm barely out and into my water belt when officials start putting us in corrals. I kiss Anthony, who was nice enough to get out of bed and drive us downtown, and we get to our starting positions. Based on time, we joke that we are in the wrong place
This is me, laughing and bouncing to try and warm up.
I don't even have time to be nervous before we start running.
Miles 1-5: I've run most of the course in training runs, so I know this part is fairly easy and mostly downhill. People are already out with signs supporting runners. It makes me smile. The run seems easy at this point. My legs and feet, both of which have given me various problems this week, feel like they will last forever. I still pace myself not wanting to get overconfident, too fast, and burnt out.
Miles 6-7: These miles are by far the coolest experience I've ever had, and I share that forever with everyone who ran. At mile 6, my legs begin to get tired. I have just finished an energy gel and am waiting for the high to kick in.
Before it has a chance to, I hit Milledge Avenue. Flat for miles, this was always one of those easy but boring parts of my training runs. Not today. First, a crowd of 30 people has come out just to support Shawna, who is apparently somewhere near me. After we pass them, the woman beside me yells "Shawna has the best friends. She wins!."
Just a little farther down, a man in a black tuxedo sits on his lawn sipping red wine and yelling "Kudos" to passing runners. I laugh so hard I almost lose my breath.
At the end of Milledge, we turn onto a small road lined with neat houses. Turns out, this is their kind of excuse for a block party. As soon as we turn we are met with a jazz band. "Wow," I say as I smile.
Ahead of me, this whole road has come out to support us. Signs are everywhere. Balloons and music, so many people with their children, all there just to help us down their road. "You did this to yourself," one sign informs me.
An ambulance is blaring "Eye of the Tiger" as a paramedic did karate moves.
"Your neighborhood rocks," I yell at a resident. "I know," he says.
I hate turning off this road. I'd like to go and hug them all.
Miles 8-12: These are the boring miles. Fewer spectators line the roads, though there are a few groups that seem to teleport to different points to support their runners. "Weren't you near the start, then just on Milledge?" I ask an older couple. "We get paid by the stop," the man replies.
It is here that I notice I am just ahead of the 2:10 pacer. What! That's way faster than my goal, which was obviously based on my 0 experience running this distance and the fact that I thought I was going to fail miserably come race day. I know a big hill is coming, so I put a little distance between us for the moment.
There are some great people toward the end of this section of road. A group is standing on top of a small hill just helping motivate people to get up it. Also, the car blaring "Like a Rock" with all the doors open toward the end is awesome.
Hell (or the last mile): If there is a Hell and I end up there, it's just going to entail running this section over and over again forever. At the bottom of the hill, someone who had already finished the race has come back to encourage others to dig deep. This gives me a moment to get serious again. I have run everything to this point; I am running this hill.
This hill starts like any other but just keeps going. The course here narrows, and people keep stopping to walk. I have to zigzag around them to keep pace. Once I get to the top, we round a corner and yet more hill appears.
The woman beside me stops. "You've got this," I say, and she runs a little farther before she stops again, looking defeated.
I know the finish is downhill, but I barely make it up that hill. Toward the top, a sign reading "If it was easy, I'd be running" gives me the boost I need. I finish the hill and turn toward the finish.
The Finish Line: When I turn down the last street, it is empty, but I can hear a roar ahead. I run faster, knowing that it is almost over.
Going down that last hill is incredible. Out of nowhere, there are so many people and so much noise. I tear up as I hear my name announced and see my time. 2:08:28, way better than I'd hoped. As I cross the finish, I see Anthony with my mom and dad. They have tamborines, bells, and this awesome sign.
I've been beat up and spit out. I am elated, sad it is over, tired and hyper all at once. I've never worked so hard for anything in my life. So many early mornings, aches and pains, and emotions had led me to this point. I hug my family and almost chip a tooth by throwing on my medal.
I stick around to find my friends and exchange battle stories. I try to stretch my legs, but they lost all feeling long ago.
And just like that, it is over. The pain sticks around for a few days, but memories fade fast. I see why people run these addictively. The rush is the ultimate high, and after that you're just chasing the dragon.
Thanks so much to everyone who supported me, most of all Anthony, Mom, and Dad. It was amazing to see you all waiting for me at the finish. Also, congratulations to Melissa, Troy, and Adam, who all finished the race and kicked ass. I hope to see you all there next year, when Anthony and (hopefully) my mom will be joining us.
6:30 AM: We arrive at the start, and I immediately head for the porta-potties. It's still pitch dark outside, which makes that a scary experience. I'm barely out and into my water belt when officials start putting us in corrals. I kiss Anthony, who was nice enough to get out of bed and drive us downtown, and we get to our starting positions. Based on time, we joke that we are in the wrong place
This is me, laughing and bouncing to try and warm up.
I don't even have time to be nervous before we start running.
Miles 1-5: I've run most of the course in training runs, so I know this part is fairly easy and mostly downhill. People are already out with signs supporting runners. It makes me smile. The run seems easy at this point. My legs and feet, both of which have given me various problems this week, feel like they will last forever. I still pace myself not wanting to get overconfident, too fast, and burnt out.
Miles 6-7: These miles are by far the coolest experience I've ever had, and I share that forever with everyone who ran. At mile 6, my legs begin to get tired. I have just finished an energy gel and am waiting for the high to kick in.
Before it has a chance to, I hit Milledge Avenue. Flat for miles, this was always one of those easy but boring parts of my training runs. Not today. First, a crowd of 30 people has come out just to support Shawna, who is apparently somewhere near me. After we pass them, the woman beside me yells "Shawna has the best friends. She wins!."
Just a little farther down, a man in a black tuxedo sits on his lawn sipping red wine and yelling "Kudos" to passing runners. I laugh so hard I almost lose my breath.
At the end of Milledge, we turn onto a small road lined with neat houses. Turns out, this is their kind of excuse for a block party. As soon as we turn we are met with a jazz band. "Wow," I say as I smile.
Ahead of me, this whole road has come out to support us. Signs are everywhere. Balloons and music, so many people with their children, all there just to help us down their road. "You did this to yourself," one sign informs me.
An ambulance is blaring "Eye of the Tiger" as a paramedic did karate moves.
"Your neighborhood rocks," I yell at a resident. "I know," he says.
I hate turning off this road. I'd like to go and hug them all.
Miles 8-12: These are the boring miles. Fewer spectators line the roads, though there are a few groups that seem to teleport to different points to support their runners. "Weren't you near the start, then just on Milledge?" I ask an older couple. "We get paid by the stop," the man replies.
It is here that I notice I am just ahead of the 2:10 pacer. What! That's way faster than my goal, which was obviously based on my 0 experience running this distance and the fact that I thought I was going to fail miserably come race day. I know a big hill is coming, so I put a little distance between us for the moment.
There are some great people toward the end of this section of road. A group is standing on top of a small hill just helping motivate people to get up it. Also, the car blaring "Like a Rock" with all the doors open toward the end is awesome.
Hell (or the last mile): If there is a Hell and I end up there, it's just going to entail running this section over and over again forever. At the bottom of the hill, someone who had already finished the race has come back to encourage others to dig deep. This gives me a moment to get serious again. I have run everything to this point; I am running this hill.
This hill starts like any other but just keeps going. The course here narrows, and people keep stopping to walk. I have to zigzag around them to keep pace. Once I get to the top, we round a corner and yet more hill appears.
The woman beside me stops. "You've got this," I say, and she runs a little farther before she stops again, looking defeated.
I know the finish is downhill, but I barely make it up that hill. Toward the top, a sign reading "If it was easy, I'd be running" gives me the boost I need. I finish the hill and turn toward the finish.
The Finish Line: When I turn down the last street, it is empty, but I can hear a roar ahead. I run faster, knowing that it is almost over.
Going down that last hill is incredible. Out of nowhere, there are so many people and so much noise. I tear up as I hear my name announced and see my time. 2:08:28, way better than I'd hoped. As I cross the finish, I see Anthony with my mom and dad. They have tamborines, bells, and this awesome sign.
I've been beat up and spit out. I am elated, sad it is over, tired and hyper all at once. I've never worked so hard for anything in my life. So many early mornings, aches and pains, and emotions had led me to this point. I hug my family and almost chip a tooth by throwing on my medal.
I stick around to find my friends and exchange battle stories. I try to stretch my legs, but they lost all feeling long ago.
And just like that, it is over. The pain sticks around for a few days, but memories fade fast. I see why people run these addictively. The rush is the ultimate high, and after that you're just chasing the dragon.
Thanks so much to everyone who supported me, most of all Anthony, Mom, and Dad. It was amazing to see you all waiting for me at the finish. Also, congratulations to Melissa, Troy, and Adam, who all finished the race and kicked ass. I hope to see you all there next year, when Anthony and (hopefully) my mom will be joining us.
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