Or: The Time I Walked Every Flipping Step of a Freaking Half
On my doctor's orders. And my mother's. And my husband's.
And it still wasn't the most brilliant thing I've ever done.
I had some serious mental issues heading into this one. I felt embarassed to be walking. I didn't want to walk. I thought about pulling out. But mi madre raised me to pinch the pennies, and the thing was paid for. I was damn well going to participate, no matter how ashamed I felt.
So, P and I drove to San Antonio on Saturday morning. Stopped at Buc-ee's on the way (love that place), and there were running shirts all over the place. I was wearing my Houston Marathon finishers' shirt, and I was getting nods and compliments. It was awesome! It was like the entire Houston running scene packed up for a road trip to SA for the weekend.
Went straight to the Expo, which was just like last year's. They gave out Tech-T's this year! And they had my size! Bought one of those race belts with the "fanny pack" made out of stretchy material. P thought it was too expensive at $20, but I wanted to try it out as I have never been truly happy with my carrying-stuff methods.
Then headed over to JaMIL's house to stay. She made some yummy spaghetti for dinner.
Woke up at 4:45 the next morning. Left at 5:30 for P to take me to the shuttle at the AT&T Center. Was on a shuttle by 6:30, and at the race start before 7. Stood in line for porta-john until about 7:35 (with the race starting at 7:30). Wasn't worried, though, because I knew I was starting so far back that it'd take almost an hour for me to get to the start line.
I was originally going for a 2:10 finish, which would have been a PR, and had me starting in Corral 13. I ended up starting in Corral 31. Lame.
Turned out that I was correct: my corral started just after 8:30. A lot of people in my corral were walking, which was somewhat comforting to me. I started walking with a goal of 15ish minute miles, without really having any idea what I could actually accomplish.
15 minute miles are almost exactly what I could accomplish, as a matter of fact. And so I walked. I walked past the Alamo. About 5 miles in, I started getting sore (including the bum knee), and was grateful for the long-ass shitty hill that I hated last year when I was running. And then down the other side. About 7 miles in I was concerned that I was hurting my knee by continuing to participate, so I called P. He couldn't hear me, and therefore couldn't rescue me, so I kept walking. Being pissed off at P gave me some energy for the walking. I took a cup of Cytomax and a cup of water at every aid station. I took a gel at 5 and 9 like I would if I was running. I learned something, though: if walking a half, you can eat more before hand. I was freaking starving from about 4 miles on - I had only had some toast for breakfast, as if I was running. I walked and walked and walked some more. I discovered that walking a Half is just as painful as running the Half, only it takes a hell of a lot longer. The marathoners joined up with us at about 11 miles. I was walking the Half in a decent marathon time. It was hot, and many looked to be struggling, but they were still running. I saw a guy with a shirt that said he was training for IM Cozumel in 2 weeks. Now that dude is hardcore. Running a 3:20ish marathon two weeks out from an Ironman. He really was freaking iron. Visited portajohn around 11. At least I know I hydrated sufficiently for the heat. Walked up that bitch of a hill to the Alamodome and was done. 3:20ish.
Got my medal, took one of every food item, found P and JaMIL, and got the heck out of there.
Knee is pissed. Right ankle is pissed. And walking a Half is something I hope I never have to do again, but may be doing in 3 weeks in Dallas.
That is all.
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