There was also a guy running with a cast on his arm. I saw him at the 18 16-ish mile run too. I can only imagine how gross the inside of his cast is. Maybe it’s one of those waterproof ones so that he can attempt to flush out all of the sweat while training for a marathon.

I had a pebble or something in my shoe, and I ran with it bothering me for about four miles before I finally stopped to fish it out. Retying my running shoes around eight miles proved to be something I wouldn’t recommend. Tie shoe. Run. Find that shoelace is too tight. Stop and retie shoelace. Run. Shoelace is still too tight. Stop. Rinse. Repeat.

Around mile 11.5 there was a wooden deck on a bluff with steps, I couldn’t see where the steps led to but I’m guessing either a beach or a pier, or both. Anyhow, on the deck was a pair of high heeled shoes. But here’s the thing, I don’t know where the person who belonged to the shoes was. Had they been there all night? I wonder what size they were?

The course was an out and back, which means that you ran for 6.55 miles and then turned around and came back. I watched for my brother to pass me for about thirty minutes before I actually saw him. It’s a good thing he had on the lime green knee-high compression socks that matched his t-shirt, there were a lot of runners with green shirts on, but only one with matching knee-high compression socks.

Spiderman, Spiderman, does whatever a spider can. Early into the run I passed over a Spiderman action figure on the path. I thought about picking him up, he’s probably never come along on a half marathon before. I looked for him on my way back but didn’t see him. Someone else probably picked him up and crossed him over the finish line.

My feet ache. Do I need new shoes?

I wonder I can finish in time to make it to a yoga class.

Why am I getting stupid songs stuck in my head??? Tie A Yellow Ribbon ’round The Old Oak Tree? Or how about: Who Let the Dogs Out?  And then there was Saturday In The Park. Ugh.

© 2010, Outside My Head. All rights reserved.

 Well I did it, and I wasn’t last. I’m happy with my time of 2 hours and 40 minutes. My brother finished in 1 hour and 53 minutes. Do you see how much taller he is than I am??? He claims it doesn’t make a difference, but clearly he’s wrong.

The run went pretty good. I’m a little surprised at my pace, because it’s a full minute and half per mile better than any of my long runs so far. Perhaps not having the dogs running with me made a difference? Or it could have been that I wasn’t trailing a kid on a scooter who needs to stop to ask me a question every block? Or maybe it was the fact that my sister-in-law and my nephew, Connor, came out and ran me in for the last minute. They pushed up my pace to a 9 minute mile! Whatever it was, I’ll take it.

And to the guy who pulled me aside after the race to tell me that he tried to catch up to me at the end, but just couldn’t, THANK YOU! That was awesome!

© 2010, Outside My Head. All rights reserved.

What am I doing eating chips and cookies????

And then I made the mistake of checking out the race results for last year’s half-marathon, as well as the half from just a few months ago and saw that the times were shockingly quicker than I realized they would be. Now, all I can think about is how I might finish last.

I remember the first 5K that I ran — I actually made my husband turn around and make sure there were people behind us. There were. I finished that race with my best time ever, it was something like 30 minutes 32 seconds. Of course, I’ve never broke that time since. And this year I can’t even run a 5K straight without throwing some walking in there — which drags my average pace down. However, put me on a treadmill and I’m good to go for miles and miles and miles. It’s the outdoor stuff that I can’t just find a good pace for and stay there.

So here I am, fretting about being last. And quite honestly, I know I shouldn’t care about this, but I do. And it really doesn’t make sense in my head because last week when I ran the 18 16 mile build-up run with the Striders I was dead last from the start, and I did not care. Well, maybe just a little bit, but it wasn’t so much about the stigma of “being last” as it was the fact a that I didn’t study the route and I was very concerned that because I was away from the main pack of runners that I wouldn’t know where to go. Well, it all worked out, right? I mean, I’m obviously not wandering around the lakefront trying to find my way home.

As I was whining to my husband about it this morning, he reminded me of his wrestling record from his high school sophomore year: he won 6 out of 30 matches.

Sidenote: How does he remember this stuff??? He knows what weight he wrestled at for every year, what schools Muskego High School beat, who went to State, what his record was, how many students were in his graduating class, etc… And it’s not even high school. Nope, some history thing will come up and he’s all “we learned that in the 7th grade.”

Anyhow, his record was 6-30. I can’t remember what his point was. Oh yeah, “Honey, you’re just starting out.” And then he went on to a wrestling analogy while I let the dogs out.

So let’s hear it, am I being ridiculous? Would you care?

© 2010, Outside My Head. All rights reserved.