The Ventura Half Marathon

September 12, 2016 § Leave a comment

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The Trail of Snot.  That is how I will remember this race.  I felt fine, but that cold/virus/whatever my children gave me two weeks ago is still clearing itself out and I left quite a few snot rockets in my wake…including, possibly, on other runners trying to pass me.  That’ll teach them.

But anyway.

The first two+ miles of this race were not good.  It was slow.  Felt awful.  Gave up all hope of breaking 2 hours, maybe even finishing.  Why bother.  This was terrible.

I should know this by now, but I need a little bit of time to warm up.

Mile 3 things started to kick into gear.  I felt like I was working harder than I should be given the fact I had another 10 miles to go and that, by all other indicators, this would not end well.

But by Mile 4 I figured that since it was already happening, I’d just keep going that hard as long as I could.  #strategy

At Mile 5 I started walking through the aid stations because I got tired of soaking myself and having most of the water go up my nose.

Mile 6 a guy with super buff arms befriended me.  We ran together for about half a mile until I LEFT HIM IN THE DUST.

The turnaround point was a highlight, because the marathon runners ran straight and we got to head back, so I took a moment to appreciate the fact that I dodged that bullet.

The second half we were running into a headwind.  But I managed to maintain my speed and was still in control and killing it.  This race was going to be a cakewalk.  Why don’t I always use this strategy?

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Mile 10 I hit wall #1.  Mile 11.5 came wall 2.

Right around Mile 11, based on my watch (which was a little bit off the official time), I realized that I could *probably* break 1:45 if I hung on.  And once I realized that I had to do it.  Had to.

That’s when things got ugly.  My body was like, “Sorry, you did not adequately prepare me for this, stop right now.”  And I was like, “NO, BODY!  I’M THE BOSS HERE!”  and my body was like, “F*** you,” and my entire body, arms included, started to burn then go numb.  I tried to stay calm and not puke.

Mile 12 Buff Arms passed me.  And there was nothing I could do about it.

When I crossed the finish line my heart rate was 195.  Based on the Mayo Clinic’s method of calculating, my max heart rate should be 185.  I almost exploded.  Finish line pictures will be keepers.

I crossed the finish in 1:45:03.  God.  Dammit.

I wore my Garmin, which spit out a bunch of info that I probably didn’t need to know but is fun (for me) to look at.

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Total elevation 52 feet.  Shwing.

Discrepancies in distance due to starting my watch a little late, and having it pause itself when I slowed down too much at the aid stations (a setting I have it on for when I do city running because it’s awesome at lights).

For posterity’s sake, and since I have them so neatly packaged right in front of me, my splits:

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Wrapped it up with these puppies:

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Why is running so fun.

The poor friend who I convinced to sign up for the full marathon did indeed finish, but did so while deathly ill.  CHELSEA, YOU ARE CRAZY but also a rockstar.  Feel better soon, girl.

Now I’m off to eat 1300 calories and completely negate this entire experience.

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