Unfortunately for some, this post is about running (gotta work off those bowls (yes, plural) of ice cream somehow)...if you're looking for sugary sweet goodness, feel free to bow out until the next post. I'll forgive you.
On May 1st, I woke up around 3:30am (it's just plain wrong, I know), threw back a pot of coffee, munched on some toast and peanut butter and headed out the door to run the Orange County Half Marathon!
This was my second half marathon and I was AMPED (wish you could hear me say that word in my best burly man voice)! Ever since I ran my first half-marathon, I had been counting down the days until my next one..but I was a bit nervous.
|I promise I'm running and not marching as it appears in this picture.|
I won 3rd place in that first half-marathon with a time of 1:55, and my goal was to finish this race in 1:45. Now, here's why that's a bit of a rraaaaaaaaraaareach (rev run anyone?):
- I haven't really been training. If you count spotty 3-6 mile runs and two 10-milers as training then we're golden.
- Cutting 10 minutes off a time isn't normal.
- I've been eating sugar like America's sugar production may be in peril.
- Humans weren't made to wake up at 3:30am.
The great theologian, Ricky Bobby, once said, "If you're not first, you're last," and I really didn't want to be last, but I sure as heck knew I wouldn't be first. Oh, the dilemma.
I started off the race pretty fast and felt great for the first five miles. The race support was great, and I successfully drank water/gatorade at the aide stations and managed to not spill it all over myself. If I was to be honest, I find an odd satisfaction in throwing the cup down on the ground as I'm running when I'm done with it. Oh, the joys of littering.
The course was gorgeous (we ran from Fashion Island to the OC Fairgrounds), and the millionaires came out from their incredible houses to cheer us on in their gold-encrusted robes. How sweet. I'm kidding about the robes...but you get the picture. At one point, I asked a random lady what pace we were running at because she had a Garmin (I want one so bad! ps my bday is coming up! hint hint.), and she said 7:15...YOWZA! 7:15 min miles? I said boom-shaka-laka, received a strange look and kept pushing.
When I saw the mile 7 marker I decided running this thing was the worst decision I could have ever made. I wanted to be eating donuts, drinking coffee and relaxing...I was tired. Then I decided that was lame. I forged ahead and pushed as hard as I could. Bonafide badass.
As I approached the finish line, I saw the big time clock and couldn't believe my eyes...1:41!!!! What?!?! I freaked out as I crossed the line and then heard Brandon calling my name! I was in a state of exhaustion and pure shock. I took 14 minutes off my time people!!
|Crossing the finish line.|