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I have been telling stories about the 1/2 marathon for a week. Yet, today, I realized that I hadn’t shared any here. My 4 fans deserve some of the stories.

The marathon started with little fanfare. I was about 1 block and half from the start and looked for folks who might be running at my pace. By the time I found the 1/2 marathon sign for my pace, all the runners were gone. Only a lone volunteer stood with the sign. I said to him “are you going to run with that sign”. “No” he replied, “the folks already started”. “Are you going to run the 1/2″? “I think so” I returned.

With that I took off walking the start. Oakley’s in place, iPod on, right shoe laced up three times, and a toss of my coffee cup, I jogged over the starting line. I gotta admit, at that moment, 7:37 a.m. in the 19th, I felt like a runner. Under Armour on, sunglasses fighting the early morning sun rise, New Balance kicks on the feet, and new running shorts, I was one of them. One of the 11,500 runners, joggers, walkers and wheeled athletes. This was it.

The first mile was great, I hit the first mile marker on time. 11:27. That was the 5 hour marathon pace. I was sporting my 17 year old Timex Ironman and a pace bracelet compliments of the Cliff Bar folks. 1 down. 12.1 to go. This was good. I was not one of the dozens of folks in line for the bathroom. I looked for Melissa, she was behind me to start for sure and that Camo Running skirt is hard to miss.

Miles two through five I hit on target. Was drinking Gatorade and Water mixed at mile 2 and 4. I was getting passed up and passing some joggers and walkers up. It was cold. I was thankful for the long sleeved under armour. Sporting a knit Nike hat I fought off the 40 degree temps.

At the five mile mark I found the 5 hour pace team. I felt relieved. I was running with a group. No chit chat at this point, just enjoying the Bexley area of Columbus. I ran with the 5 hour pace team for three miles. Then I began to slow down. Running eight miles was more than I ever could have imagined. It hit me as I approached 9 miles, under 1:45 that I was doing pretty good. Who woulda thought that I would jog nine miles non-stop like it was nothing?

Finishing 9 miles was tough. I had never run farther than 9. I skipped my 10 mile training run and was hoping for adrenaline and the crowd to carry me. That worked until the 10th mile. Around the 10.5 mark I began to cramp in my left calf. That hurt. I didn’t know what to do. I tried a modified stride, turning my foot our to the left and landing flat on my foot to alleviate stress on my achilles and hammy. It didnt work. I ran through it and was able to keep close to my time. The 10 mile went around 12:00 flat. I had been 11:40 or better through 9.

Mile 11 and 12 had intermittent uphills. Those uphills killed me. They were slight but the cramps were back in both legs. I was scared and not sure what to do. Stop running? Rub them out? Keep moving and hope for the best? I chose the latter. The cramps disappearing for the level areas, more Gatorade and a prayer for some strength. 2:30 was still doable at this point. I was counting on the excitement of the finish to pick up a minute or two on the final two miles.
On mile 12 I met Jermaine. He was about 5’10″ and at least 275. I had been seeing him on an off. He was walking, then jogging, then walking. He and I ran for a 1/2 mile together. Encouraging one another. At 12.5 the hill began to go up and I lost more time with my modified hobble, skip step, jog stride. Keeping both feet moving and not walking was the goal. By the time I got to the top of the hill at the end of 13, I was barely able to jog. The legs were cramping and the emotions were too great to focus on my stride.

Jogging, with all I had in me, I crossed the finish line standing. 2:36:30. Just 6:30 over my goal. Next time. 2:30 or better.