Despite sunny skies, the temperature at the start line hovered at just 19 degrees, with a wind chill of 4. It was so much worse than I’d anticipated when I registered a week ago, worse than I’d written about just 48 hours before the race’s start. If I heard one more person attempt sarcastic optimism about the weather, I probably would have really lost it.
A personal record setting 104 minutes later, it was over. I’d finished the race without my trusty playlist, only slightly worse for the wear.
Running thirteen silent miles gives you a lot of time to think, especially when you can’t sing along with Madonna. So, for your reading pleasure (or horror), here are some of my thoughts from the road:
Mile 1: I wonder when I’ll be able to feel my nose again. Should I be worried about that? Forget runner’s knee or plantar fasciitis… What about frostbite?
Mile 3: Check out the numbered parking spots. I could correlate these to historical events. Oh, the year I was born. The year my parents got married. Kennedy’s assassination.
(I’m a former history teacher. This went on for a while.)
Mile 5: Water stops are super scary today. What if I spill on myself? Then it would freeze. I’ll opt for dehydration.
(I’m not saying this was a logical set of plans.)
Mile 7: Over halfway and last of the hills. And there are jambalaya leftovers for lunch. Let’s get this thing done.
(I make a seriously good jambalaya. The anticipatory excitement was entirely appropriate.)
Mile 9: 4 miles to go. At 8 minutes per mile, that’s 32 minutes left. At 90-100 paces per minute, I could just count 3,200 paces, and I’ll be done.
(I proceeded to count to 500. I’m not kidding.)
Mile 10: Look, the ocean! Oh, the “ocean breezes.” How is it that I’m running in a circle and facing a headwind the entire race?
Mile 12: One more mile until beer! Oh, wait. I gave that up for Lent. What was I thinking?
Finish line: Phew. Check that box.
What’s next? My first post-baby 20 miler!
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