Tacoma Narrows Half (WA), August 6, 2011

As a continuation of the travel to run (or run to travel) plan, my mom and I hopped on planes to Seattle for a week of travels and a half marathon.  After a few days in the San Juan Islands, we headed south to Tacoma.  The race started at the Tacoma Narrows airstrip before taking off towards the bridge over the Tacoma Narrows.  The morning was chilly, and while I was thinking about my nice, warm, hotel bed, I was also hoping that my warm weather training would pay off pretty well.

I soon figured out where I’d heard of the Tacoma Narrows and was jolted back to a middle school technology class.  A few miles into the race we crossed the Tacoma Narrows suspension bridge, the one that replaced “Galloping Gertie.”  (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tacoma_Narrows_Bridge).  I suddenly remembered the video of the enormous bridge waving in the air like a ripple on the water.  Initially, I had eagerly anticipated the run across a huge bridge, but with images of cars being tossed into the water, I no longer looked forward to what seemed to be the world’s longest bridge (this one only swayed slightly in the wind).

After setting my feet back on firm ground, I began the trek through (or over) Tacoma, running from one side of the city to the other.  The race followed a greenway through the town, taking a tour around Cheney Baseball Stadium (where I got to see myself on the jumbotron), before a 3-mile descent towards Commencement Bay.

Having my mom waiting for me at the finish was becoming a common event, and I was happy to cross the finish line and see her there (at hometown races I usually run into someone I know so it’s a little strange to see no familiar faces along the course).  Race organizers decided against race medals for this one, instead handing out pint glasses.  Thankfully I had my mom to tuck mine away in her purse (unfortunately the sound of shattering glass as pint glasses hit the ground became a common occurrence).  Following the race we moved on to our next stop, a nice long hike at Mount Rainier National Park.

Karner Blue Half Marathon (WI), July 16th 2011

Having decided to run all 50 states, this was the race that gave me (okay, my sister) the idea that I should start a blog about my races, and the t-shirt that made me decide to include their pictures.  I began to schedule some of my running around travels (or my travels around running).  My mom and I were driving from Delaware to Minnesota for a family vacation so I thought it would be perfect to find a race along the way.  What better way to stay limber on a road trip?

After looking at the route we drove and doing a little research, I found a half marathon in Black River Falls, Wisconsin.  My training was going well and the date and location were perfect, so I thought it must be fate.

We arrived in Black River Falls on Friday the 15^th, found our hotel, and headed to the chamber of commerce for packet pickup.  I picked up my packet and learned that there were 42 other people running the half, if everyone showed up (the weather was a little rainy, and the forecast wasn’t great).  This was definitely the smallest race I had ever run!  We spent the rainy afternoon exploring Black River Falls, a great little town with ATV trails, lakes, parks, and tons of outdoor activities.  As much fun as they looked, it was pouring rain so we had a great time admiring them from the car.  The town was in the middle of its “Karner Blue Festival.”  I was curious to learn the meaning of the name of the race and soon found out that a “karner blue” is a type of butterfly native to the area (see t-shirt picture).  For a prerace dinner, my mom and I headed to “The Orange Moose,” a statue of which we could see from our hotel room.  While watching the rain run down the windows of the restaurant I dined a perfect prerace pasta primavera to prepare me for the next day.

Saturday morning the weather had not improved.  In fact, it was worse.  The rain was heavier and accompanied by a fair amount of thunder and lightning.  After breakfast at the hotel, I climbed in the car, prepared to arrive at the start and find out the race was cancelled.  We pulled into the parking lot to find a group of runners waiting in their cars instead of a race cancelled sign.  Surely they wouldn’t “let” us run in this.  Five minutes before the race was supposed to start, I ventured out of the car through a huge puddle to find other runners.  The trip through the puddle left me with soaked feet and the race hadn’t even started, awesome (but at this point, I didn’t think it was going to start, so wasn’t too worried).  I found a group of people huddled by the restrooms waiting to be called to the starting line.  Really, we were going to run in this?  It hadn’t been cancelled.  And as I mentioned before, my feet were already wet.  After reminding us that the race was “rain or shine,” the director called us to the starting line.  I had not done much training in the rain and was worried about how my feet (and wet socks and soaked shoes) would handle the water.

Before we took off, the race director told us to be careful, one of the roads we were headed towards was a little flooded from all the rain.  I wished I’d known something about the course to know where that road was and think about how I might get around it.  Then I remembered my feet were already turning to prunes, what was one more puddle (or small river as it turned out to be).  Just as the race started, the rain stopped.  I thought this might work out, I was wet (head to toe), but things were looking up.  Maybe I would be dry by the end.  We started out on a small paved trail that circles the town of Black River Falls before heading out into the surrounding farmland. 

Four miles into the race, on the third of countless huge hills (who knew there were hills in Wisconsin?  Not me!), the rain started again.  Soon after that, lightning and thunder joined the party.  Woohoo!  But, the race kept going.  With less than 45 runners (2 more had registered the day of the race, although I’m sure a few sane runners stayed home and dry), we spread out pretty quickly, which meant I could see a couple runners ahead of me, and a few behind if I looked.  Would anyone see if I got struck by lightning?  Or swept away into the storm waters?  I continued running, maybe it would be harder for the lightning to strike a moving target. 

The race passed through gorgeous farmland.  I admired the cornfields and said hello to a few cows, goats, horses, dogs, and alpaca, while at the same time wondered why they were standing in the rain instead of inside their warm, dry barns.  When I wasn’t talking to the livestock, I did my best to avoid puddles (or be ready to swim when I stepped in one).  Thankfully the terrain also provided a variety of places to hide from the weather.  Though I didn’t use any, I kept a constant lookout for places to dive for cover if needed (bushes, empty culverts, nearby barns).   

If the rain was not enough of a challenge, the middle of the race brought a new one.  Several miles in, we hit a freshly tarred and graveled section of road.  It didn’t take the full mile to remind me that tar is sticky (even when wet), and gravel sticks to tar, which sticks to shoes.  At this point I decided my shoes would never be the same.  I also gained a few “tar freckles” on my calves that stayed with  me for a few days.

I would like to say that the rain let up but it instead provided the dictionary definition of torrential downpours.  I passed a water stop around mile 9, where a rain drenched (but devoted) volunteer offered me some water.  We laughed together as I thanked her and told her opening my mouth was all I needed to do to get a drink.  Miles 10 through 13 wound back into town, where the rain seemed to have tapered to what seemed like a drizzle (compared to the earlier downpours).  The last mile ran down the same trail we started on, and at the finish, a small crowd gathered to cheer in the runners (there was a 5k finishing around the same time).  The rain completely let up just before I reached the finish, where after I crossed the line, my mom patted me on the back (for some strange reason she didn’t want a hug).  As the rain picked back up, we hurried back to the car.  Mom covered the seats in towels then drove back to the hotel.  The last thing I thought I would want to see was more water, but a hot shower felt great before we climbed back into the car to continue on to Minnesota.

The race was not a PR, but surprisingly close (especially since I felt like I swam most of it).  It was, however, one of my most memorable races so far.  While it was cumbersome at times, I decided I had two options, to either suffer through and curse the weather, or enjoy the rain and take in my surroundings.  I chose the second.      

Mayor’s Midnight Sun Half (AK), June 19, 2010

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This was the race that caused me to set a goal to run all fifty states!  I decided to take a trip to visit a good friend from high school in Alaska, a place I had always dreamed of traveling (and maybe living someday).  When we began to look at dates and schedule the trip, I realized there was a half marathon in Anchorage around the time I would be there.  I considered preparing for and running a full, but decided that traveling across the continent then running 26 miles would make me a little nervous.  I was also a little concerned that running 26 miles might hinder my legs for the hiking, climbing, and adventuring I had planned for the remainder of the trip.

The morning of the race was cool, a pleasant change from the North Carolina heat I left behind.  The race ran through parts of the city of Anchorage before heading past the airport and turning onto trails.  My favorite view was when we passed the airport.  There was a UPS plane taking off next to us as we ran down a gentle hill.  As I looked down the hill, I saw a sea of runners moving together below a horizon of snow-capped mountains.

Shortly after this point, we turned onto a section of trail, cut through the woods, and then ended up on the Coastal Trail, a paved path that runs along the Cook Inlet.  The trail reminded me of the greenways I often run in Raleigh, although instead of looking out over Shelley Lake, I looked across the water and saw the peaks of the Kenai Mountains rising out of the water.  It was strange to run a path that felt familiar to my feet with views so different from what I have at home. 

The final quarter mile of the race was around a high school track.  It was a perfect ending to a great race, and the best beginning to 10 days filled with hiking, camping, canoeing, microbrews, and wildlife.

Tobacco Road Marathon (NC), March 18, 2010

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I’m not quite sure what happened to 2009, finishing graduate school and completing my National Board Certification seemed to leave little time for running (if you ask one of my friends, they may even tell a story about how I almost missed my own surprise birthday dinner to work on writing).  With those 2 accomplishments out of the way, I laced up my running shoes once again for a race close to home.

The Tobacco Road Marathon runs a great trail between Apex and Durham, North Carolina.  In addition to being an old railroad bed (meaning flat), a good portion of the course is on packed sand (my knees loved it).  This was the first time I had a chance to train on the course prior to the race and I truly appreciated knowing what I was getting into and what to expect.  I found the perfect combination of water, Gatorade, and Shot Blocks to get me through my training and had a great plan for the race. 

Even though it was close to home, I didn’t tell many of my friends the details, I have never been one to need spectators.  Less than a mile into the race I was surprised to see a familiar face, one of our student teachers and her husband.  Earlier that day I had spotted a group of runners running in honor of a friend going through cancer treatment and I then put the two together and realized it was her husband.  Periodically through the race I saw the two of them stopped to cheer everyone as they passed.  I even had the chance to run a few miles with some of the runners and hear about why they were running and the man they were running for.

He passed away 8 months later.  Reflecting on this race has made me realize how running brings people together for reasons other than to get back in shape or lose a few pounds.  It’s also a chance to come together with a common goal or purpose, to celebrate or support those we are close to.  I sometimes think of this race as my second marathon, the feeling of getting my nutrition right, and having energy through the last mile.  While those were great benchmarks, I more clearly remember it as the race where a group of people came together to run and honor their friend in his fight.

Charlotte Thunder Road Half (NC), Dec 13, 2008

A good friend was getting married December 13^th, which just happened to be the same date as the Thunder Road Half Marathon.  Since I was already traveling to the Queen City, why not run a race while there!

Without much trouble, I convinced another friend who would be in town for the wedding to join me.  After an uneventful drive to Charlotte and a delicious dinner at “Noodles and Company,” (those of you who know me know that this was my kind of restaurant) we settled into the hotel Friday night and rested up for the race.

Saturday morning we made it to the race start and the race went on without a hitch.  Never having visited Charlotte before, it was fun to get a tour of the city on foot.  My favorite moment of the race came a mile from the end.  In addition to the half marathon, there was also a full-length race.  Many races share a portion of the course but this one shared the first 12 miles.  I was more than excited to take the turn to the right, with only one mile left instead of 14 (I may have mentioned that to the person next to me running the full).

After the race we rested up then celebrated the marriage of two good friends.  The day could not have been better!

VA Beach Rock 'n' Roll Half (VA), August 31, 2008

I was happy to have finished my first half marathon, and was ready for another. Since I had a Virginia Beach Rock N Roll Half t-shirt (they sent it to me when my foot was broken but I hadn’t let myself wear it because I hadn’t run the race), I decided to try it again!

I emailed a group of friends and suggested a weekend at the beach, and maybe a half marathon too. Several friends jumped at the chance for a getaway, and a few even wanted to run (although if you asked them today, a couple would swear I twisted their arm and forced them to do it. Apparently I am known for pressuring people into terrible things like running).

A few months later, 9 of us (6 runners) piled into cars and headed to Virginia Beach. While I knew it was Labor Day weekend, and was prepared for the crowds, I hadn’t realized how many of them would be runners. Our Saturday night search for a restaurant that had not sold out its pasta dinners was a challenge, but we were successful.

Early Sunday morning we piled onto a bus to head to the starting line. Looking back, I remember the race being a flat course (so flat I was excited to run up a slight incline around mile 10). After starting at the convention center, we wound through a variety of scenery, neighborhoods, commercial areas, and military barracks before heading back toward the beach and finishing on the boardwalk.

Thankfully, we had designated a meeting area to gather with the non-runners after the race (with over 16,000 finishers, it was packed). As we waited for everyone in the group to finish, we enjoyed post race goodies on the beach. Once we were gathered back together it was time for the cool down walk down the boardwalk to our hotel. Twelve tired legs made it a slow walk, but spending the rest of the day on the beach was a great way to recover.

Inside Out Sports Half (NC), March 30, 2008

With the help of calcium supplements and chocolate milk at lunch everyday, I was out of my boot by mid-October and running again by December. I still had not run a half marathon, and with a healing foot decided I would try one close to home.

The Inside Out Sports Half Marathon ran roads and trails I was fairly familiar with, so I knew I would be comfortable with the course. The race ran roads through Cary before heading into Umstead State Park where it switched to sand packed trails. It was a low-key event, but I was happy to focus on running and not much else.

When I look back on the races I've run, I often realize the lessons I learned about running (or about myself) during the race. On this run, I learned about rolling hills. The course was an “out and back” course, and about the first four miles were rolling hills (which meant the last four were also rolling hills). Like a little kid, running downhill tempted me to “let go,” let gravity take over, and run as fast as I could. I knew there was a reason not to, and remembered it when I started up the next hill. I quickly learned that controlling myself on the downhill saved my legs for the next uphill.

Along with learning a little about rolling hills, I learned that I could do it. I finished my first half marathon and my foot felt great.