Anyways, this last weekend was the White Rock Marathon. A race that holds a special place in my heart because my work is heavily involved in it, it's one of the premier Texas races (whoot!) and of course--Texas Scottish Rite Hospital. Those children just melt my heart. Yes, it's an expensive race, but, my heaven's, I'd pay more money for those little kiddos. There was a little boy who was running the last leg of the relay in his "running legs" that he received thanks to treatment at TSRH. Did I mention he was like 8 and running 6.2 miles? They call them Patient Champions and they really are.
OK, so, that's my sappy love post about kiddos and kiddo hospitals (if I could handle blood, and you know, didn't suck at math and chemistry, I would love to go back to school and be a pediatric nurse. Too bad I suck at all the courses needed for nursing school!).
White Rock is a big race--20,000 runners this year--every event reached capacity (yay!). Lil ol me does not fare well in crowds. Remember how I freaked out during the Too Hot? Yeah, this was 3x bigger than Tulsa.
We left the house in plenty of time but because every damn runner in Texas was there, we sat at the exit for 30 minutes. After having a mild panic attack, I (like most of the other runners) bailed out of the car and crossed the 6 lanes of traffic (no one was moving, it's not like we were playing chicken) and walked to the start. Somehow, my husband made it to the start with about 10 minutes to spare. Apparently, once the runners were out of the cars, traffic started moving. Obviously.
When I signed up for the race in August, I was working on increasing my speed and I input a faster time than what I really finished at--not like a freaky fast time, but, a time that in August, pre injury and mystery illness I thought I could achieve by December. It was corral starts and I'm thinking there was some sort of error in the auto-sort that they did on my time because I ended up in the first corral. Ummm, yeah, it was me and a bunch of Kenyans. There's no way that the time I provided should have put me in the first corral. No way.
Knowing that this was going to end badly for everyone involved, I begged the nice race officials to let me move back--even though there were strict rules against changing corrals. I think the race official understood that there was some sort of mistake and let me move back. Because obviously, I was not going to run a sub 5 minute mile. My legs are never going to move that quickly--ever. Even if a lion is chasing me.
I lined up with my goal pace and we headed out. Lots of elbows in the face and whatnot and lots of zig zagging through water stations because they were jam packed and of course starting out too fast. Have I not learned? Although, I will say that the pacer in Tulsa was dead on. These ladies weren't too fast--wasn't like that last half, but, it was fast enough that I was pushing a bit harder than I wanted to that early on. Bleh.
I lost them around mile 7 and had a little breakdown because I couldn't keep up with them and I tried to make peace with the fact that I wasn't going to PR, but, it was going to be OK because I'd been slacking since Tulsa and whatever. I was just going to run my race and not worry about it. As sucky as it was. After all, I hadn't just run my own race in quite some time and it is nice to just be there and do what you can regardless of friends or pacers.
I should also mention that I was total butterfingers and dropped my shot block at mile 9 which pissed me off because I was hungry, dropped the Gatorade there as well and around mile 11 dropped an orange that a volunteer handed me. Not to be totally obsessive, but, I'm sure that my stutter steps for the second orange took a few seconds. Sure. But I was really, really hungry!
Also, at mile 9, you're not "almost there". Don't tell me that. I'm not even at mile 10 yet. So not "almost there". But, the encouragement was still nice. :)
I decided that once I hit mile 10 I was just going to haul ass and go as fast as I could and not walk unless I was on death's doorstep. I had run a pretty speedy 3 miler last week, so, I figured I'd just channel that energy (or something like that!). So I ran. And ran. And saw numbers on my Garmin that I hadn't seen in months. And I zigged and zagged and ran and ran. I checked my time and figured that I could somehow manage to hit my previous half time, which would be fine all things considered.
Then, out of nowhere, I saw my pace group--I had caught up with them--what?! I ran with them for about 20 seconds and then decided to screw that and keep going as fast as I could--if I crashed and burned, I still knew I'd PR because I'd finish with this pace group and that was an automatic PR for me.
I passed mile 12, checked my time and realized that I was going to come in a few minutes under my goal. There wasn't a mile marker 13 and of course my Garmin was a little off from the course, so, when I hit 13 I was desperately looking for the 13 marker, but, there wasn't one. I just kept going because I knew I had to be close--the finish line totally snuck up on you from around a bend, so, just about the time I wanted to kill someone because where in the hell is mile 13 there was the finish line. I looked at my time again and the tears started coming. I managed to come back from a poor start to an awesome finish!
I crossed the finish line 5 minutes faster than my previous half marathon time. Sure, it's not like 10 minutes or anything, but, for me, those 5 minutes were amazing. It was really my best race (besides my first ever). I pushed myself the whole time and pushed myself harder at the end than I have in a long time. My legs hurt, my stomach hurt, my arms hurt, my brain hurt, but, I kicked this races ass and was so freaking proud of myself. I definitely cried when I crossed that finish line and putting that finishers medal around my neck I couldn't help but feel elated. I honestly felt very similar to how I felt at Tulsa. So proud. I was not expecting a half marathon time to hit me like that, but, it did and it was really a great moment for me. (end gloating....now)
Also, this made me rather loopy because once I found the husband and asked him to take my picture, I somehow asked him that 3 times throughout the next hour or so, not remembering that he'd already taken a picture. My brain was toast.
It was a great way to end the my first ever running season. I'm nervous about 2010 because I know I won't PR in Catalina, I mean, come on, but, hopefully I'll shave off some time in OKC and PR at The Cowtown Half. But, either way, I know I started my first year of racing off incredibly well and 2010 will only be better. Even if not loaded with PRs, 2010 will be a great year because I'll be running several big races for Jack. And that's really exciting to me.
I feel good and was ready to run this morning, but, it was 24 degrees and super windy. So, that idea went out the door. Treadmill after work. Vom. Which also means no Christmas shopping after work. Ooops.
White Rock was a great race. I'm so glad I decided to run it--and can't wait until next year.
View from the parking garage as we were leaving--parked on the 5th level. That was fun. Look, every runner in Texas is down there in that crowd. Pinky swear. (and this was after a majority of the half finishers had already gone home--the full finished on the other side of the AAC, so, I don't even know what their area looked like!)
The hubs and me. We didn't find each other until 20 minutes or so after I finished--there was a police line blocking admittance into the finishers area and he couldn't get to the finish line, so, we have no finishing photos of me, but, oh well. You can see here that we are in the finishers area. VIP passes and a runner help matters. We snuck back in to cheer on my boss who ran her first half.
Like the hair? It looked cute when I started, but, 13.1 miles of running plus you know, sweat and foggy mist make for two messy pigtails. (what's going on with my upper lip in these photos? It disappeared!)
Over and out!

