Beware of the crotchety runner

The City of Trees Half Marathon was this morning. I knew this race was going to be a unique experience. First, I didn't train for it (no time). Second, I haven't been running on pavement at all. Third, I had run a total of eight miles in October before this morning, including a six-day stretch of no running at all, unheard of since moving to Boise. And finally, did I mention I hadn't run 13.1 miles in a single stretch since my last half marathon in May?

I drove the course yesterday to get my bearings, a good thing since about half of it was new territory for me. The full marathon would begin an hour before the half, with both following the same course for the first 12 miles. Unfortunately for the half-marathon runners (read: me), this was the lame part of the overall course. Marathoners would pass through the more visually pleasing and less traffic-congested parts of town during the final 13 miles.

In order to run a 1:30 half marathon, I have to keep an average 6:50 pace throughout. I was actually about 30 seconds ahead after four miles, which I quickly lost in the next two miles. There was a hill, which slowed me down a bit, but my hip joints also began to get sore at this point. Nothing debilitating, but I wasn't my usual gazelle self out there.

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I've commented a number of times on here about my running pet peeves. Once again, I had to sift through a crowd at the start of the race. I wasn't too pissed because after passing the starting chute, the course was pretty wide. The entire right lane of a busy road was blocked off for the runners' use, so there was plenty of opportunity to pass. However, I will never understand why folks who will end up finishing with a 10-minute pace feel the need to start so close to front.

But what happened today was even worse. I was just past the halfway point, nearing Mile 7. Remember, this was a half marathon - 13.1 miles. I was running along Federal Way and crossed an intersection. At the opposite corner was a group of fans. As I passed, one of the women yelled, "You're almost there!" Uh, what? I've had fans tell me, "Just one more mile!" when I was still a mile and a half from the finish. And there was the time an aid-station volunteer encouraged me by saying, "It's all downhill from here," when I still had to climb one last hill. But to have someone tell me I was almost done when I still had over six miles left to run was utter ridiculousness.

So, what did I do? I yelled back, "No I'm not!!! Good grief!" My tone was more incredulous than mean. I've never run with music, but this morning's incident made me wish I had been wearing headphones to block out the nonsense spewing from the peanut gallery.

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Federal Way was a bitch. The course followed the bike path that paralleled the road. It was an alternating mix of asphalt and concrete - not good for the joints. Plus, it's a busy road, not one I would choose for a leisurely jog, let alone a half marathon. It's pretty bad when my landmark is the Fred Meyer. I eagerly anticipated the downhill to the river, but by that point the concrete had taken its toll on me. I felt like a shuffling old man.

The last couple of miles were actually kind of a struggle, reminiscent of the Horsetooth Half Marathon. I was just done. So, no 1:30 this time around. My finishing time was 1:33:02, hardly even PR material.

I know, it's still a good time. I did place 5th in my age group (out of 42) and 24th overall (out of 542). When the results were posted this morning, I was listed as the 4th-place finisher. (Or what I like to call, "1st Loser.") But the results were updated this evening, moving me down to 5th. That actually made me feel better.

Now, the big question is whether to try one of the two half marathons on the race calendar in the next month. I don't know. It would involve training (imagine that!), preferably on the road. Why do that when I can run on the trails? I guess the bright side is that if this is my major concern troubling me at the moment, life must be pretty good. And it is. I'll achieve my goal someday. In the meantime, I'll survive.