Austin Half Marathon 2015

There are all kinds of different paths a race might take (well... figuratively anyhow - usually for a road race, there's only the one literal path).

Some races go really, really well. Everything clicks - everything falls into place and goes even better than you imagined it would. You know the moment that things started going right, and it just gets better from there. Those are the ones you get to brag about for weeks, until even your running friends are tired of your stories of glory.

There are also the races that just don't go well at all. The ones when it just simply isn't your day, and nothing you do feels right but there's no real explanation for why. For whatever reason, you just suck. They exist to make you appreciate the times that you don't suck. Those are the ones you get to bitch about for weeks, until even your running friends are tired of your whining.

And then every so often there comes that extra special race. The one where you Just. Have. To. Poop. Nobody really wants to know about that race in the first place. Not even your running friends. But you tell them anyhow, because that's what you do.

And... surprise! Today's race was one of that third kind! I suppose I should have listed it second, to facilitate a number two joke... Then again I could go back and change the wording on that sentence to "one of the turd kind"...

Everything was going pretty well for the first 6 or 7 miles. I ran conservative up the hills in miles 1-3. I floated my way down the hills in miles 4-6. It felt pretty good. I even had my eyes open when Everett was yelling at the bottom of the hill.

I settled into a nice groove along Cesar Chavez, but then... something moved. It was not one of those code red bathroom emergencies, where you have only 30 seconds to decide which grove of trees will provide the most cover. This was more in the "mystery caller" category, where you're mostly certain that it's not gas, but you can't possibly take that chance. And there's the thought that it might just disappear on its own.

The next couple miles were the worst of it. I considered a pit stop in the bathrooms near the high school, but didn't. I kept thinking things would turn around soon. It got a bit better near mile 9, and then it was kind of on and off for the rest of the race - though it remained first and foremost in my mind. The race was no longer about conquering the course, but just literally about keeping my s**t together long enough to finish.

By the end, I still managed to run one of my faster half Marathons (1:25:31). I finished a miraculous 4th in my age group and 49th overall. It was a couple minutes off my goal for this race, but I can't really complain. And I learned an important lesson: Costco pizza is not an appropriate pre-race dinner option. Perhaps for some, but not for me.

The only other notable thing (maybe) is how completely beat up I feel today. My quads, my calves, my hips, and even my abs are complaining. I should be sore right now, but this is worse than my usual half-marathon soreness. It is either a testament to the hills on the Austin course, or a side effect of running the better part of an hour with clenched buttcheeks. Oddly, despite all the other aches and pains, those cheeks feel fine.