As most of my friends and family know, I've been training for this race for several months. After putting up with the constant dehydration, perspiration, soreness, pseudo-dieting, and long weekend runs, it was time for my hard work to prove itself. A few weeks ago, I strained my left quadricep and soon become unsure as to how I would pull this off. Regardless, I knew I had to cross that damn finish line.
My running partner (meaning, I sort of dragged him into this) and I made our way to Dallas on Saturday. The only thought going through my mind was, "Let's just get this race over with so I can enjoy a cocktail." It was difficult to fathom running 13.1 miles alongside 20,000 other registrants. Not only that, the weather forecast predicted temperatures to be in the mid-30s. Yes, I'm from Texas. Yes, I'm a bit of wimp when it comes to winter weather. The two go hand in hand.
[Sunday, 5:00 am] Neither of us had any desire to move from under our blankets. Without even touching the window, I could sense the outside temperature, and it sent a shiver down my spine. After a few minutes of mental debating, we finally began to get ready. With a healthy breakfast in our stomachs, we bundled up and headed to Fair Park. The directions suggested that we arrive by 6:30 am. Easy enough, right? Wrong. As we approached the multiple exits we could take, each one was at a complete standstill. I know this was the first year the race started at Fair Park, but they really need to attend to the traffic issue. It was pretty much a huge clusterfuck. Thank Gawd we were smart enough to find a "secret" alternate route.
Finally, I was in the midst of the runners, waiting to cross the starting line. Despite being cold, I was in my own world with my iPod flowing into my ears. My adrenaline was pumping, and I was ready to embark on this athletic experience. The race itself was actually...fun and enjoyable. Shocking, I know. Who would ever think running 13.1 miles is fun? It was scenic, the weather was gorgeous, and as corny as it may sound, having strangers cheer for you was more than endearing. Some of the posters were pretty clever ("Hurry up because I have to poop", "Run faster because the zombies are behind you", etc.) There were a few moments when I felt like my legs were going to give out, but I knew I had to push through the pain. The miles seamlessly flowed by...8, 9, 10...
At mile 11, it hit me. I could literally taste the beer at the finish line (yes, alcohol was still a small motivator). Because the race finished in the area it began, I knew exactly where I was. As I picked up speed, my adrenaline increased ten-fold. With all my might, I was going to sprint across that finish line with my hands in the air, and I did just that. Official time: 1 hour, 59 minutes, and 3 seconds....not too shabby, if I say so myself. I can't lie to you, there was a lot of emotion that went into crossing the finish line.
As soon as I received my medal and finisher t-shirt, I naturally gravitated straight to the beer tent. When the attendant asked me, "One beer or two?" I didn't even stutter. Of course, I needed two. My friend and I enjoyed a Whataburger celebration meal and ended up sleeping the entire drive back to Houston. Oh, and my legs and feet were on fire. Seriously, on fire. At least my toe nails didn't fall off because that ain't cute.
The training and race, collectively, was an amazing experience, and I can't help be proud of myself. A lot of passion and emotion goes into something like this. There are several reasons why I did it, but the bottom line is that I did it for myself. Not many people can, or ever will, say they've accomplished something like this. Now, I'm looking forward to running a full marathon in 2011. I guess you could say I've caught the "running bug".
All I know is, my body is gonna be lookin' tight with all this running. That is what's really important, right? Just kidding. Well, sort of.
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