That is how I would have written this post had I blurted it out immediately after I finished my run. So I have waited a week to spare you the overdone OMGs. Except OMG, I am a two time half-marathoner!
To begin with, San Francisco is phenomenal. So much so that I may have overextended myself a little in the two days prior to my run. The night before the big day, I went to bed with sore thigh muscles from all the hills I'd been scaling, and I figured that was a bad sign. Thankfully I was completely wrong.
On the morning of the big day, I got up at 5:30 with that feeling of exhaustion so intense that it's more like nausea. I made my Macgyver oatmeal; extremely hot water from the shower tap combined with oatmeal in a rock glass, and covered with one of the little plastic "this cup is clean" covers to steam - surprisingly effective and delicious. I got my outfit on just so; from the perfect hair elastics to my wristlet loaded with tissues (suck it up, nose, we're doing this thing), all was in order.
Union square, however, was anything but. After a lot of random questioning ("I don't know where that corral is miss, we are just volunteers from out of town. But we love you, you are awesome. Woooooo!"), I found my spot, and basically stood and vibrated for the next half hour. I wasn't cold—San Francisco weather gods, please let me now whenever you want to call in that favour—and I wasn't even all that nervous, I was buzzing with the energy of the day, and all the people around me. My body felt about ready to explode out of its stretchy pants. Thankfully it did not. That would have been gross.
After a lot of emcees repeating the same sentiments of excitement, and a hell of a lot of Beyonce (Who runs the world again? Oh that's right, girls.), we had a gunshot, ladies and a handful of gentlemen. I was not in one of the faster groups, so I still had some time to wait before ambling up to the front. But when I did, starting line finally in sight, there was an old man to my left in the crowd, jumping around and waving a particularly neon green sign. It said "RUN AMY RUN!" I could have kissed that guy. Instead I struggled to keep in the tears from all the emotion and excitement of the day (We cannot afford additional mucus right now, team body!), I smiled a big smile, and I got ready to fire up my legs, pausing for just a few seconds, when I realized I could cross the starting line at 11:11 (my magic number). Off we go. This was going to be bloody fantastic.
And it was. I got a small cramp but I suppressed it like it was nothing. I watched the scenery dance out in front of me, one amazing sight after another: Alcatraz, the Golden Gate, cliffs and ocean, beautiful old houses whose views could only put them in the millions of dollars category. And the thing that I feared most, those very imposing hills, was more than manageable. I took some teeny tiny steps around a lot of walkers, but I didn't stop or slow down once. And oh the reward on the downhills—it was like flying for two miles. I don't think I'll ever run a race in Toronto again, if only to avoid the mental game that comes with staring at the same scenery for over two hours. I am so astounded to say I never reached a point where I thought, "I just can't." Exhaustion was alongside me, surely, but it was equally countered by what I now wholeheartedly believed I could accomplish.
There were some interesting things that helped keep me amused along the way. What women want, according to Nike, is chocolate on course (how could I possibly digest that 10 miles in?), and more importantly, a tent, high up on a cliff, where we can stop our run, pop in, take off our sports bras, donate them to charity, and put on new Nike ones. Seriously. I still have my original bra, in case you were wondering.
The craziest part of all is what happens beyond the finish line. After I sprinted my way along that final stretch, crossed to the other side (NINE minutes faster than my last half marathon, I might add) and clapped my hands over my mouth in disbelief, I was greeted by a San Francisco fireman in a tuxedo and (of course) Nikes, carrying a wide silver platter piled with little blue boxes. There is a photo of me with my arm around that fireman, grinning like I've just been awarded free flights for life. Any random person looking at it would assume that I'm just thrilled to be hugging a fireman (but he's not that cute - sorry sir), or that I'm a sucker for the stylish wares of Tiffany. I won't discount the fact that the necklace is rather nice. I am grinning, however, for myself. For my legs and my lungs, my nose and my heart, and the power of my brain to keep them all moving forward together, even when they didn't feel like it.
When I signed up with Team in Training, one of the questions on the form I had to fill out asked what goals I had for my run. I didn't specify a time I wanted to beat, but said I wanted to finish the race still feeling good this time around. As I sat on the beach, crying because I was so thrilled and pumped through with adrenaline, I'd say quite confidently that I met my goal. To everyone who helped me get there, I offer you my most sincere thank you.
Next up: full marathon. After I've spent some more quality time with the couch.
Whaddya mean he's not that cute???? He looks like a young John Travolta. You must have been delusional after your big run. Congrats by the way. I can't wait to hear about the full marathon.
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