Oh hey there, I was just thinking of different ways to use the acronym PR. Probably because that happened. No biggie (it totally was!!!!!!)
Sunday morning showed up just as hot and humid as the week before it. Boston has decided this year that we will be having none of that lovely spring weather and instead will go barreling into the hazy hot and humid days of summer like a bull in a china shop. I woke up very early after barely sleeping through the night. Pre-race jitters combined with a 2am fire alarm were not conducive to me and my ZZZs hanging out very much.
I woke up, got dressed and went to meet my partner in crime, Megan. This race was the first we ever did one year ago, and let’s just say we’ve been calling it the “Run We’d Rather Forget” ever since. It took us about 1:19 to finish last year, and we were absolutely grateful to do just that: finish.
When we arrived, the half-marathoners were just about to take off and the air was thick with excitement. The announcer got them fired up, the national anthem was sung, the airhorn blew and then they were off! I was NOT jealous of their upcoming hours.
We hopped into the line to head out, and 15 minutes later the pomp and circumstance was bestowed upon us. We took off and I quickly realized just how humid it was. It was almost like I was chewing on the air…disgusting! I kept to about an 11-11:30 min pace (I know, I’m a turtle) and focused on my breathing. The 1.5 mile mark (and water) came up faster than I expected it to and I breathed my first sigh of relief. I knew I had a friend waiting at the 3 mile mark and I was paranoid I would die and get there late. Pressure was on! I kept on trucking, introducing a minute or two of walking every 8 minutes or so. I felt fine, but I didn’t want to hit a wall. At about 2.5 miles (halfway!!), I spotted a race photographer and shot him some sort of gang symbol and a stupid face. That should be an interesting photo.
Finally, the 3 mile point came into sight and I saw my super fan! He was waiting with 2 different kinds of Gatorade, which I was oh so grateful for. I grabbed a blue one (does anyone else call them by colors and not flavors?) and continued on. The homeless guys in Chinatown called out lots of “friendly” things as I ran through, and then before I knew it I had reached mile 4. I ditched the bottle of Gatorade (it was weighing me down and my stomach sounded and felt like a full washing machine).
With one mile to go, I wanted to stop and walk more but took a moment for a self-assessment. I was amazed and thrilled to realized that I was fine. Nothing hurt, my lungs weren’t burning, and my fatigue was not really showing itself. I convinced myself to suck it up and not walk.
The last home stretch involved an uphill bridge, with in my opinion is just obnoxious. I ran up it anyway, and started coasting back down and towards the finish line. Shot another double finger point and giant smile at the race photographer (why do I do that??) and hollered out to my mom as I went by. I almost shat myself when I realized that not only had I BLOWN my time from last year out of the water, I had finished in 1:01 (unofficial)!!!!!!!!!!! I will tell you now that one hour was my secret ultimate dream goal, and I was hoping for 1:10 at best.
I smiled (and drank) my way through the rest of the weekend, and absolutely wore my finisher medal to any barbeque’s I attended. It’s kind of something you have to do.
Celebratory beer in the parking lot at 10am for the win! (Matching outfits were completely unintentional btw)