Like the beginning of “The Tale of Two Cities,” the Mayor’s Half-Marathon was the best of times and it was the worst of times.
My sister and my mother flew into town for the race and also for a week’s vacation, so I drove up to Anchorage and found myself caught in this:
Yeah, my first traffic jam in like six weeks. Bummer, and welcome to the city, my dear.
My mom, sister and I stayed in a really nice vacation apartment rental. Best of all, it was walking distance to the race start.
Check out the cool Bondi Band I bought at the expo.
My sister wore one that said, “I love running, I hate running, I love running, I hate running.” Wish I had remembered my camera so we could have gotten some pics but alas, these things happen.
Race day morning was uneventful. I ate. I pooped. I put on my clothes and remembered my timing chip and we all got to the starting line in time. My sister and I seperated, since we run different paces, and when the gun went off I started off strong and ran with a running buddy I met at the Exit Glacier Race for the first couple of miles. We held a steady pace and chatted for a bit. Around mile four, I surged ahead. I felt great. My stride was fluid. I was on target for a 1:51/1:52. I was sure that I had it in the bag.
I was so stoked. I maintained an even pace. I rocked the hills.
|Mile 5 and I’m feeling great.|
|Mile 9, and I passed me a couple of boys on the hill, hee, hee.|
What I neglected to do, however, was refuel. I have low blood sugar and need to take a Gu every 8-10 miles or I crash. I know this. I do this on practrice runs. It’s pretty much second nature.
Except mile 8 came, and then 9 and then 10 and I felt so great that I just kinda told myself that I didn’t need a Gu. “I’ll do it at the next mile marker,” I kept telling myself.
Then mile 11 came and I bonked. I mean totally.
I couldn’t open my Gu so I chomped down some Shot Bloks but still, the last two miles were not good. My pace slowed waaaayyyy down and I just wasn’t feelin’ the love.
|1/2 mile from the finish and I am toast.|
I did manage to perk up at the end and do my Bondi Band proud by passing five (five!) dudes coming up the last brutal hill before the finish, hee, hee.
I crossed the finish in 1:55.21, not that bad but not what I had hoped.
My sister was slower than she expected too. It was just one of those days.
After the race, I got to sit with my mom on the futon, eat pretzels and relax because, you know, life is so much more than racing.
Still, I wish I had nailed that damned 1:52.