A moment of panic washed over me when I realized the “Tiny” Half was 10 days earlier than I originally thought. It was a few days shy of a month after completing my first full marathon. Two weeks of being ill limited the amount of running I was able to get in, and I didn’t think I’d have enough time to get back up to half marathon snuff.
Now if you said there was a phlegm horking competition, I would take third place, easy. First is always held by Hacking Hamish of Hercules, CA.
But never mind that. The illness passed, the weather was warm, and I was able to get back out on the road. Retraining my body commenced.
As the “Tiny” Half drew closer, winter weather did as well. The rain came to the valley. When we’re meant to be celebrating the much-needed wet stuff, I was cursing it. You wouldn’t know it to talk to me (sarcasm alert), but I’m not fond of adverse conditions. Weather, crowds, talking on the phone, the usual.
My worry went from wondering if I was ready to having to deal with crappy weather. It’s one thing to get a fine spritzing on a short run. It’s quite another to spend two hours sloshing in a downpour and get sopping wet.
It’s at times like these that I turn to Yoda. I will heed any advice from veteran runners, especially Yoda. “Wear a hat,” she said. Check. I don’t run anywhere without my Fleet Feet cap. “Wear more tight-fitting clothes, because water will weigh down extra fabric.”
I hadn’t thought of that. Simple physics. Plus, I had the ever-smart thinking Coach Kitten bought emergency rain ponchos for our running kit. Suddenly, I wasn’t even worried about a little rain. Phone calls and crowds, yes. But not rain.
The night before the race, I slept deep. There was no anxiety. I awoke refreshed and excited. Like Christmas morning, but with sweaty people. So Christmas morning with family, essentially.
We donned our running bibs and racing tucker. We finished prepping and headed out into the bleak, drizzly morning. A quick drive to Galt, two visits to the always fragrant port-a-potty for a pre-race tinkle and I was ready.
The first leg took the runners – all 101 of us – on an overpass of Highway 99, into east Galt’s farmland, straight into the rain.
And straight into the wind. The frickin’ wind.
At first it wasn’t bad. When we turned north, it was coming from behind, giving a good little push. Ah, refreshing.
From there, the path wound through country lanes, new neighborhoods and eventually back across the highway into town.
A side note here: I really hate wind. The rain on its own was fine, but throwing gusts into mix makes for miserable running. My legs were fine. My breathing was great. I didn’t suffer any side stitches as I had only a few miles into the previous two races (which I blame on having even a small breakfast). But the wind sucked. Every time I found a good stride, the wind slapped me full-on in the body, slowing me down.
Despite nature’s farting, I kept on. I cursed. I trudged. I spit and snotted. (If nature could be gross, so could I.)
I did not stop running.
I did not get a PR.
I did not mind one tiny half.
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Official finish time: 1:57:31
Overall place: 24 out of 101
Age group placing: 6
Splits:
Mile 1: 8:30
Mile 2: 8:31
Mile 3: 8:28
Mile 4: 8:33
Mile 5: 8:34
Mile 6: 8:33
Mile 7: 8:49
Mile 8: 9:06
Mile 9: 8:41
Mile 10: 8:54
Mile 11: 9:00
Mile 12: 9:32
Mile 13: 9:11
Mile .1: 9:12
The Wretched Mile 