[Sham]Rocking 13.1

Yesterday, I did something that just months ago seemed unthinkable: I ran my first half-marathon! In the three months that I’ve been training for this race, I’ve worked my way up from three miles to thirteen miles, surpassing my expectations of myself and my body. If you had asked me a year ago if I would ever run in an actual race, I would have laughed in your face, claiming a very different identity: “I’m not a runner.” Now, I would argue that I’ve earned and embrace that distinction.

 As promised, I wanted to tell you all a little more about my race weekend experience, which was SO much fun and such an adventure! I was lucky enough to share this experience with a number of my friends, some of whom ran the race with me and some of whom came down to Virginia Beach with us for support purposes. Early Saturday afternoon, we packed up my car and headed east on 64 towards the coast. One of my close friends from the rowing team lives only ten minutes or so from the course, so she and her family graciously offered to host us for the weekend, which we very much appreciated! After settling in there, we headed out for lunch and to the Virginia Beach Convention Center, where the sports and fitness expo connected to the event as well as the race packet pick-up stations were located. Picking up all our race day equipment was surprisingly easy and fast, so we had lots of time to check out the expo and load up on the free swag [or, conversely, get scammed into buying five-dollar heating pads] that businesses were giving out at their booths. I am now the proud owner of a sticker for the radio station 96X, a Yuengling drawstring bag, and [the most coveted item of all!] a 13.1 sticker!

 That same evening, Dave and I got to explore the oceanfront for a while and enjoyed a long walk in that area before heading back to the house for dinner. My friend’s parents made us some delicious lasagna, the perfect carbo-loading meal for the night before the race, and we played some games and such before heading to bed fairly early in anticipation of our 5:45 am wake-up. When my alarm went off early the next morning, I felt surprisingly awake—and unsurprisingly jittery. After a quick breakfast of bagels, we left for the race.

 We arrived at the course fifteen minutes later, scoping out the area for parking options but finding them very limited. Luckily, Dave was able to drop off those of us running and continue the parking search with the rest of the support squad so that we could get to our corral area with a comfortable amount of time before starting. Once we found Corral 8 and took a bunch of pre-race pictures, we settled in with our group. The corrals were organized by estimated pace (given upon registration), so ours was categorized as a pace of two hours and fifteen minutes for the half marathon. This was my first big road race, so I had never really experienced anything like it before. In each corral, there was a person designated as the pacer for the marathon and one for the half-marathon, each with a sign delineating their pace time that they held on a pole for the entire time they ran the race. So, at the front of Corral 8, a man in a race t-shirt was carrying an orange sign that read 2:15. The marathon pacer near us had a green sign reading 4:20.

 I’m not sure how many corrals there were, but we all lined up in corral order, beginning with one, at the start line. The first corral had an estimated pace time of 1:35 for the half-marathon. So fast—and I imagine there were people in it who finished even faster than that! At 7:30, the first corral moved up to the start line, and every two minutes after that, the announcers sent off the next group. Soon, Corral 7 was in the starting area and we stood just behind. The energy was high, and our group of supporting friends had found their way back to the starting area to cheer us on as we began the race [there are some fantastic blurry videos out there to commemorate that moment]. Finally, the announcer called our corral number.

 It was actually very anticlimactic. People were packed so tightly into the starting area and we were far enough back within our group that we couldn’t move forward at all when the announcer told us to begin. After a few seconds, however, everyone began shuffling forward and we were able to pick up a walk and then a slight jog, and finally a run. There were lots of spectators lining the sides of the course in the first few miles, and their signs and cheering kept spirits high as we embarked on our thirteen mile run. There were mile-markers at the end of each mile, allowing us to celebrate each one as a small victory. At the same time, however, it was slightly disconcerting since during our normal long runs, we weren’t usually so constantly aware of our mileage, at least until we got towards the end and started checking more frequently. So, it was a very new experience, and definitely an adventure along the way. To accurately represent the race for you all, I’ll break down the miles:

 Miles 1-3
While we got off to a slow start, these first few miles flew by. Although we had been chilly standing around before the race (the temperature was only in the forties), once we started running, we warmed up very fast, promptly unzipping our jackets and taking off our fleecy headbands. The sun was out, the morning was crisp, and spectators cheered along the course—we felt excited and fresh, and were enjoying the scenery and sights of the run, which so far had passed only through populated suburban areas with lots of cute beachy streets and houses. We realized that, despite estimated pacing corrals, not everyone near us was running the same speed at all, so we started to bypass some other runners in settling into our own speed. Friends had warned me before the race about starting too fast, but we didn’t seem to have that problem, probably partially because of the crowded quarters in the beginning and the fact that we were attempting to keep the three of us running together from getting separated—it’s much more difficult to weave around people and pick up speed in a group like that. As we passed the first mile-marker, however, we were pretty much up our normal comfortable pace, although we had lost sight of our 2:15 pacer as they had gotten away from us at the beginning. As we approached the end of the third mile, we left the populated area and took a turn into a more woodsy part of the course labeled “Leprechaun Lane.”

 Miles 4-5
Although Leprechaun Lane didn’t have any spectators and was more isolated as the road took a straight course through woods and swampy areas, we were entertained by the signs with fun facts about Leprechauns that popped up along the course [if you need a reason to do a St. Patrick’s Day race, there’s one for you]. We also started people watching, and I was amazed at the varied demographics of the other runners. There were people of all ages, genders, and sizes running alongside us, at slower or faster paces that seemed totally unpredictable in terms of demographic factors. An old woman in knee-high shamrock socks with probably fifty years on us sped past us, leaving us far behind. We saw a few parents pushing their children in strollers while they ran and we saw acquaintances spot each other, wave, and shout encouraging words across the course. Even without spectators to cheer us on, the community of runners within the race provided a cheerful and supportive environment unlike anything I had imagined. It didn’t feel like a competition with anybody besides myself, and the feeling of camaraderie that accompanied the run stands out to me as one of the best parts of the day.

 Miles 6-8
As we finished our fifth mile and headed into the sixth, we left behind Leprechaun Lane and entered Fort Story, a military base in Virginia Beach that we were given the privilege of running through for a few miles. The fifth mile went especially fast, and when we saw the mile-marker signaling its end, we were pleasantly surprised and spurred on by the change in scenery as we ran on through the base. It was starting to feel like we were really in the race as we approached the halfway point—we had come far, but we still had a long way to go. When we reached mile seven, however, and could say that we were more than halfway done, it already seemed like such an achievement. Although my legs were beginning to feel sore, the stiffness of the first portion of the race had worn off and as we continued to pass a number of other runners and even moved past our original 2:15 pacer, the running felt fast and strong. Military families in the residential portion of the base cheered us on outside their houses, and we saw one of the more ~interesting~ support signs of the day: a man who appeared to be naked held a sign reading Run Faster or I Drop the Sign in front of his crotch [update: we looked back after we’d passed and he was actually just wearing really short shorts].

 Miles 8-12
If this race was a rowing 2K, this section would be the third five-hundred. I don’t really know any other sports metaphors, so that’s the best I’ve got. By the time we passed the eighth mile-marker, the elation from being halfway done had worn off as we realized we still had five miles to go. Although we kept reminding each other “only five miles, we’ve done that so many times before,” or “less than four miles left now! That’s nothing!” the miles still passed by slowly and painfully. Around mile nine, we exited Fort Story and looped back around to the same suburban area we had previously run through, although this time heading the opposite direction. We celebrated mile ten and commended ourselves for reaching double digits, but we still had almost a 5K left to run. We were moving past and sticking to a good pace, and even caught up to and passed the 4:20 marathon pacer in our tenth or eleventh mile, which we were excited about because it meant we were holding a pace faster than ten minutes per mile. It wasn’t until the end of the twelfth mile, however, that we finally felt close to the end.

 Mile 13 [and .1]
When we passed the twelfth mile-marker, it finally registered that we had almost done it. Soon after, we reached the point where each of us had on that day ran farther than we ever had before. We were actually doing it! We were actually going to finish this race! A whole half-marathon! Energized, we picked up our pace a little bit as we approached the turn onto the boardwalk, where the final stretch of the race took place. It didn’t feel real as we rounded that last corner and could finally see the finish line less than half a mile ahead of us. We split off from the marathon runners for this last bit, and we picked up our speed again as we ran towards the finish, wanting to end the race strong. When we passed the thirteenth mile-marker, we sprinted the last tenth of a mile to the end, grabbing each other’s hands as we passed through the finish together. We had really done it!

 After the finish, we walked through a long recovery channel, where we picked up our medals along with a bunch of other race-day swag, including finisher hats and blankets, as well as snacks and waters. Our support squad met us at the end with flowers, cute signs, and hugs, almost as excited [but definitely not as tired] as we were. We found out our time was just under 2:08—meaning that we had stuck to a pace of less than ten minute miles on average for the whole time. Although we didn’t have a time goal, it felt great to surprise ourselves like that.

 After changing clothes and eating an abundance of breakfast food, we drove back to Williamsburg [well, Dave drove—I napped]. It was a fantastic weekend, and the best part was doing something that I never even dreamed I could do until a few months ago. I’m so thankful for all the support that I got through this community as well as from other family and friends, you all kept me accountable and continued pushing me through this running adventure. I will definitely keep up with running and am already planning on doing some more half marathons this year—I can’t wait to let you know which ones I choose! I had an amazing time at the Shamrock half-marathon, and I’m so glad I got to share it with you all.