Damn girl, that's a lot of fattitude

Kevin and I picked up our race packs at the Expo on Saturday and I was feeling like a boss. I was 100% certain I was ready for the hell ahead of me. Y’all. I was not.

I woke up Sunday morning feeling a bit under the weather: nausea, vomiting, etc. I was feeling rather lousy, but oh well, I’d trained months for this. Nothing was going to stand in my way. And I mean nothing. We talked it over and decided to Swog the race (speed walk jog).

It was pouring rain. Like nasty, gross, down pour. It wasn’t suppose to stop raining until mid afternoon. Great.

We found our rain coats and got on with it.

We took public transit into the city to avoid all the cars and chaos. *Please note, we are currently smiling here. This won’t last long.

We get there and suddenly I’m all, “Holy shit – I’m about to do a half marathon.” and then we are both all, “Holy shit – this is a terrible idea.” We find Powers (a bff doing the race with us) and she also concurs given the weather that it’s a terrible idea. She’s sick and was only still doing it because she knew I would kill her if she didn’t show up.

It’s not even 7am and still pitch black out.

I had to use a Porta-Potty.

The rain is pouring.

The race starts.

And the next 13.1 miles are effing miserable. It’s not a warm rain. It’s a cold, nasty, miserable rain. I’m nauseous the entire race. The hills are like nothing I’ve experienced or trained for.

We were the very back of the pack. The cut off pace group was nipping at our heels. We were constantly checking for the SAG wagon. I was swearing like a sailor and muttering very hateful things. I was not in a good place.

I’m very grateful for Kevin because I probably would have been DQ’d for what I wanted to say to people.

Things we hear from other people while being the very back of the pack:

Back of Pack for Marathon: Are you doing the full marathon or… *sees our bibs and realizes we are half marathoners*…oh. You’re okay! We’re the back of the pack for the Marathon. The half marathon back of the pack is about 3 minutes behind you.

Kevin: Cool, thanks!

Me under my breath: Are you fucking serious? That’s the last group for the marathon? What is happening? KEVIN! Where is the half back of the pack? I’m fucked.

—

Finished MARATHON runner walking to car: Are you support staff?

Kevin: No, we’re half marathoners.

Finished MARATHON runner walking to car: Ohhh… you’re almost there!

Me: looking at my bib thinking, I’m clearly not support staff, you dick. I have a race bib on. You know I’m running this. Shut the hell up.

—

Water station people not just pouring out the water, but throwing it in the air and dancing in it: Ohhhh…guys!!! They’re not done!! Stop throwing the water away!!! Would y’all like some water?

Kevin: No thanks!

Me to Kevin: Wtf are they doing? So effing rude to dance in the damn water. This is out of control. I’m going to write the race coordinator and let them know how offensive it is. They could at least wait until everyone is done…or the stupid back of the pack group has come through. I mean, I know we’re only a couple of minutes ahead of them…but still. FFS.

—

Announcer at finish line: Ohhh!!! We’ve got some back of the pack Half Marathoners coming up!!!

Kevin: Woo hoo! We did it, babe!

Me: death stare
—

Y’all this was my face in 90% of the official race pictures. I can’t decide if it looks like I need to shit more than a look of “I hate everyone.” I think it’s a pretty good mix.

Look at how much fun we appear to be having here:

Due to the rain I had developed a HUGE blood blister on my big toe and two huge blisters on the pads of both feet. I thought about showing y’all a picture of it, but decided to spare you. I mean, every step I took after mile 9 was excruciating. I’ll also be losing two toe nails. My nail lady is going to love me.

OH HAI! We’re smiling again. Because we finished and I got my medal. Went ahead and hung that bad boy up. If it were acceptable to wear race medals as jewelry, I absolutely would. On second thought, I might make this a new trend.

And because we all know steps don’t count unless they register on your FitBit.

So, here’s the truth. I’m not a distance runner. Kevin kept assuring me I’d get some post race high like I do with all my triathlons and sign up for another. I waited a whole week before posting this hoping I’d be all, “AND I SIGNED UP FOR ANOTHER HALF! ERMAGHERD AMAZING. I LURV IT!” Real talk: NOPE. Not happening. I’ll go ahead and cross it off the bucket list, but that was miserable.

I have immense, mad respect for all you runners that get off on long distances, but the truth of the matter is, I still hate running. I find it way more acceptable when mixed with swimming and biking.

The wonderful thing I’m taking away from the half marathon is that I can do it. I can make this body do anything I want it to do. I am stronger than I think I am. I am better than I give myself credit for.

And now I have half marathon bragging rights…