13.1

I first started running because I was dared by a certain Romanian P.E. teacher to do a 10K in Lima. There were a lot of teachers from school signed up (mostly women) and the challenge was set down to complete the task. So I ran my first 10K back in November 2007 and in doing so, proved to myself that I could indeed be a runner and all those years of not doing it because of a knee injury were a thing of the past. It was after I completed that 10K that the thought of doing something a little farther entered my mind and after a bit of research, I found a half marathon in Austin, TX to satisfy my curiosity.

The plans were in my head for the better part of 8 months although the training regimen was not. When I first moved to ABQ, the altitude was a butt-kicker and I was off the wagon for a while. As the months went on and the day of the race drew closer, I started to feel a sense of dread. I left for Austin last Thursday night with my longest run to date being 7 miles in the thin air of the Sandia Mountains. Lucky for me, Austin is a lot lower in elevation and the thicker air would help my run. So on Sunday, January 25th, I tied my shoes up snug and walked on to the race course, not really sure what I had gotten myself into but with the determination to complete the 13.1 miles (22K) no matter what. The front of my shirt accurately reflected what was going through my mind. It read - "This seemed like a good idea 3 months ago."

The morning was cold, 38 F (3 C) to start the race and my friends and I were bundled for the race. Waiting at the start area was surreal at times, I knew I was there but didn't know what to expect. In some ways, it was like waiting for a plane to leave and take you to another country - you have no idea what to expect as you venture forward. So we traded bad jokes and guarded smiles as not one of the three of us felt prepared. The starting gun snapped us all into the reality of the situation and from there, we just took it one step at a time.

Our first few miles were easy. My friends from Lima and I took it at an easy pace, being sure to not over do it in the first few miles of the race. I was happy to be with them; they were something familiar in a very unfamiliar environment. The small talk we traded was enough to keep us going but we all knew that there was a decently sized challenge ahead of us. Eventually the chatter died down as the miles progressed; partly due to fitness, partly due to mental uneasiness. I ran with my two friends for the first 5 miles but then I felt like I had it in me to go faster and left them behind (we would meet at the finish hours later). I picked up the pace and started running how I felt comfortable and with 8 miles to go, I ventured out on my own to see what I could do.

My normal running pace for distance is somewhere around 10:30/mile but that had only been tested when I was running less than 7 miles. I was pleased to feel my feet finding a comfortable rhythm at my normal pace and I ran the next several miles at that tempo. Silly me, I stopped for water at mile 8 and felt that comfort disappear. My body finally realized that I had run farther than I ever had before and told my legs that same idea - you've not trained for this and you're going to pay for your stupidity. I walked for a bit, reassuring my legs that with a little rest, they could indeed go the rest of the distance and shortly thereafter, I started back to pounding the pavement toward the finish line.

My legs were numb and if ever there was an upside to that, it meant that I couldn't feel what I was inflicting upon my calves during the run. My head started to clear of thoughts and I just concentrated on the rhythm of my feet. Zen and the Punishment of Road Racing is going to be the title of my first book, I think. But I pushed on and my legs responded. "Just keep running, don't stop." I said over and over in my head. The power of gentle persuasion...

Mile 12 was a wonderful sign to see and I wish I could say that I enjoyed the last 1.1 miles of my journey. Truth be told, mile 12 was the most difficult of the race and I swear the part of the U of Texas campus we ran through was uphill (even though that part was in a valley). The lactic acid in my legs and arms gave me a painful reminder of what I was doing and I am very grateful to 2 young ladies from the UT cycling team who cheered me on that last half of a mile to the finish with their simple words - "You're looking strong and you're not going to quit now, right?!" Damn straight girls, damn straight.

I came around a curve and saw two policemen blockading the road. "You're almost there, can you see the finish line?" Yes officer, I can and thank you for those wonderful words. At that moment the throbbing of my feet went away, the burning of the lactic acid subsided, and a warm, soothing feeling filled me from top to bottom - a sense of accomplishment. With the finish line in sight, I knew I had to finish strong. The people along the side of the road egging me on, "Push it hard to the finish, you're looking great!"; it elevated me to run harder and faster. I crossed the finish line in my best sprint, smiling as the announcer called out my name and my girlfriend took a picture. It wasn't the greatest of times (2 hours 38 minutes) but that didn't matter, it was the simple fact of accomplishment that made it special for me.

The numbness in my legs soon subsided and my calves and quads have been reminding me ever since of what I did on Sunday. I waited at the finish line for my friends who crossed a bit later but it wasn't until Pipes and I retraced the race course later that night in our rental car that it really hit me with what I had done. 13.1 miles is not a huge distance but it is a satisfying one and that's all that matters to me.