13 Moons

I read an article a while back about how annoying runners are and I get it. I really, really do. I also have absolutely zero athletic ability so discussing my accomplishments in soccer or ultimate frisbee or absolutely anything requiring coordination, agility or speed is never going to happen. I am a runner by default. I also am damn (pardon the French) proud of myself for being a runner cause the trajectory I was following before one fatal day in 7th grade was not a pretty one. I would likely be a much larger, less healthier version of my current self. What I am getting at, is this is probably going to be another obnoxious post to those who really don't care about running. Feel free to go be impressive elsewhere and leave me to cling to my feelings of accomplishment for doing something our ancestors had to do as basic means for survival.  

Running pre-Rowan was not too much of an effort. I had to exert a moderate amount of energy to training, but I could run 10 miles if I needed to without much prep work. I also had unlimited time it felt like to run whenever I darn well pleased. Training for my first full marathon in 2011 required dedication, but I also had much less in the way of time constraints. I really sucked at training for the two halfs I did in 2013 with my cousin. I barely followed a training plan, but I still ran at least 4 times a week. 

Training for my most recent half has been a commitment. I signed up for it hoping it would encourage my post-baby bod to "bounce back". I grossly overestimated how easy it would be to jump back into running. For starters, my pace per mile was significantly slower than my "easy" pace had been before I grew a human. You would think someone who carried a child for 42 weeks then spent 42 hours in labor would have built up a bit more endurance, but I also noticed a sharp decline in that post-Rowan. 

The training program I followed was 12 weeks (3 months) and I tried my hardest to follow it. It wasn't overly demanding which is precisely why I picked it. I am not sure how I would have been able to finish the half were it not for the childcare center at the Y and our treadmill. Bless those two holy words. I essentially have no life currently outside of running and keeping my son from getting permanent brain damage. So running has been my 30-60 minute employer endowed break to encourage productivity. It's done wonders. 

I also have to give a big thanks to my FitBit. My Fitbit pals kept me running at odd hours of the night to match their steps and you can bet I wouldn't have been lugging my tired butt onto the treadmill at 11:00pm otherwise. Also, I discovered my Fitbit underestimates my mileage by 0.06/mile. That doesn't sound significant, but it is! When I was running on this rad outdoor track at the Y, I would always add an extra loop or two to meet mileage. I had been told the track was a half mile long, but my Fitbit always registered it short and I always went off of what the sacred black band told me. This also meant that I was consistently going faster per mile than I thought! 

Which leads me to my time on the half. MY goal started out as "finish". Which then was changed to a 2:22:30. They gave me this awesome arm tattoo to keep track of my pace. GENIUS! 

The day of the race was freaking miserable. I was already thrown off with my race starting at 6:00pm instead of the typical morning race. It left me really confused on how to eat for the day. How was I supposed to avoid chocolate at my parents house allll day long? It was also incredibly hot and humid. I was mostly dreading running. My saintly mother volunteered to stay at their house and watch Rowan while my saintly dad volunteered (I say volunteer when I really should be saying was coerced) to take me to my race. When my dad and I arrived at the race, a GIANT thunderstorm started five minutes before 6:00pm. They postponed the race 30 minutes and a very small part of me considered running back to my parents house and telling everyone I ran an incredible half. WHo would know, right? I am already starting to get bored writing this, so I will make it shorter. 

I ran what I thought was way too fast of a first mile (8:34). At mile 3, I contemplated asking one of good looking  EMT guys to drive me in the ambulance back home. At mile 4, I was fairly certain I was having a heart attack. I almost texted Sel to apologize for being such a selfish woman and leaving him a widower in medical school with a 10 month old baby to care for. Turns out my pectoral muscle was just cramping from gripping my phone too tightly. Then something magical happened at mile 5. I remembered that I didn't just run to fight back against my constant love of ice-cream. I ran because I liked it. I liked how my body and mind felt when I was pounding pavement. I liked when my lungs felt on fire and my legs felt like lead. The last 9 were a blur of runner ecstasy highlighted by my awesome dad cheering at the halfway point and shouting something nonsensical about me being able to break 2:00 hours. 

The guy in the red tank top was at least 60 and we ran essentially the same time. Coolest thing about running is how it doesn't eliminate anyone. Old, young, male, female, slow, fast-everyone can be a runner. Annnd people who are 60 are in comparable shape to my 25-year-old self. SO that's a confidence booster. 

I didn't quite believe the clock when I did finish. They haven't published the official results yet, but I think it was 2:02. I was not expecting anything near that time and know I could have gone faster if I had thought I could break 2:00. The last mile I could have killed. The course was incredibly hilly (which I trained on almost entirely flat surfaces-grreeeat), but the last mile had a beautiful downhill. SO CLOSE! I know am all pumped up to run another half in October with the goal to break 2:00 hours or heaven help me! Because I was really curious about my previous times (cause I totally didn't remember them at all), I googled myself for my marathon and half times. 

Marathon 2011: 4:43, 10:47/mile

Half 2013 Moab: 2:14, 10:03/mile

Half 2013 UV: 2:20, 10:43/mile

If I really did finish at 2:02, then my pace per mile was 9:18! I crushed all my previous times POST BABY! Again, shut up if you don't care because I do! My sweat and actual blood dripped while training for this. I seriously had to hustle to train for this and had absolutely no hope of getting anywhere close to this time. A tick tried to eat me during one of my previous runs and I am suspicious that it somehow played a role in me blood doping and getting this time. Some of my running buds run crazy fast (ahem Leslie), but 9:18 for 13 miles made me feel like Speedy Gonzales even if I am far from fast. 

When I saw some of the pics from my dad's phone, my first thought was how bleh I felt my tummy fat looked. Then I realized, that person who very obviously had a baby is very obviously killing it! Damn straight I have post baby pudge and I can still run a half marathon. Body love y'all. 

It looks like I am crying in this, but it's just because it was pouring buckets the whole time and I was dumb enough to wear mascara to a race. 

I couldn't finish this post without a polite nod to my sponsors. Dear Mom & Dad, this wouldn't have happened without you. It quite literally wouldn't have happened without you because I wouldn't exist were it not for you being together. I also would still be watching Lizzie McGuire re-runs and eating chips and dip had daddy dearest not forced my lazy butt to run that miserable first half mile in seventh grade. Dear Sel, thanks for watching Row for some of my runs and encouraging me even when I felt like sleeping instead. Dear Rowan, thanks for being cute and giving me a whole new sense of body love. 

Dear Reader, thanks for skimming over this while simultaneously checking your newsfeed and wishing I hadn't spent a whole post talking about running.