Race #15: Canyonlands!

I’m long overdue for a blog post and I apologize about that. Life has been a bit busy lately and I’ve had less free time on my hands. I’m happy to report that I haven’t stopped racing. However, I haven’t had as much time to keep up my blog. I’ve done four events since my last post, one of which was the Canyonlands half-marathon in March. Even though I owe posts for the last four races, this was such an epic race/weekend, it deserves to stand alone.

Shwag

Date: March 21st
Type: Run

Distance: 13.1

Shwag: Race shirt, medal, sticker, poster

I should start by mentioning that this year was the 40th anniversary of Canyonlands Half Marathon. When I heard that, I knew that I had to do it. The race itself wasn’t stellar. In fact, it was probably one of my most poorly executed races of all time. I had no race strategy, no nutrition plan, and I was under trained to boot. I felt crummy for the last third of the race and in the last mile alone, I had some pretty interesting conversations taking place between the three year-old and the adult inside my head.

Three Year-Old Me: I don’t wanna run anymore! This isn’t fun! I don’t feel good. Let’s just stop now. Stop now! Stop right now! STOP RUNNING RIGHT NOW!

Adult Me: I know. I’m sorry I did this to you. But you can see the finish line. You only have to run for a few more minutes. Just keep moving forward.

Three Year-Old Me: But I don’t want toooooooooooooo!

Adult Me: It’s okay. You’re going to be okay. You can do this.  

 Etc., etc. (Please tell me I’m not the only one who goes through this sort of thing.) 

But regardless of my poor performance and mental breakdown in the final mile, the weekend itself was fantastic, probably one of the best weekends I’ve had in a long time. This was a big race for me, not physically but emotionally. Canyonlands is the first half marathon I ever did so it holds a special place in my heart. This is a special race for me because it was the start of a new chapter of my life.  To make a long story short, and to save some of the more juicy details for my memoir, I’ll just say that four years ago, I drove out to the race with my then fiancé and when we drove home at the end of the weekend, I knew that he would never be my husband. (Doesn’t a line like that make you want to read my memoir?)

Running my first half marathon every was overshadowed by the general funk that surrounded me that weekend and I didn’t have the sense of accomplishment that I wanted or thought that I had earned. Overall, it was a bummer.

But not this time. Instead of driving out with a soon-to-be-ex, I drove out with Szabo and Scott G., two of the most wonderful people I know. The drive out was a mix of goofiness, down-to-earth discussions, trivia, serious and deep debates about apple varieties, and amazing snacks.  

Once in Moab, we were united with the rest of our F4 family, including Kaitlyn and Jen Ski. who were our roommates for the weekend. We made a quick trip into town to pick up our packets and then it was off to the pre-race pasta dinner where I ate more than one reasonably needs to eat before a half marathon, or even a marathon, for that matter. 

After dinner, Kaitlyn, Jen Ski, and I got ready for the next day’s race. Watching the two of them prep their stuff, it became clear to me that I wasn’t prepared at all, mentally, physically or logistically. It’s not that I hadn’t been training, I just hadn’t been training that much. And my training had generally been limited to running, not to planning, pacing, nutrition, or any of the other numerous components that go into having a successful race. I had a brief rush of nervousness and then I decided not to worry about it. It was too late to do anything anyway.

The next morning when the alarm went off the first words out of my mouth were “I really don’t want to run a half marathon today.” But you can’t always get what you want. I got myself ready and headed over to the shuttles with Jen Ski, where we met up with Andy T and Amy T. We hopped on the next shuttle but had to sit in the way back, with no seats or seat belts. A little dangerous? Perhaps, but that’s just how we roll.

It was a chilly standing around at the start but it wasn’t nearly as cold as it normally is and, most importantly, it wasn’t windy. Apparently it was so windy a few years ago that port-a-potties were blowing over at the start. Luckily, we didn’t have to deal with that! In fact, I don’t think we could have possibly had better weather for the race. I got to the start about an hour before the start and spent time catching up with good friends I hadn’t seen in a while. It was great to see so many familiar faces and to feel so supported. I almost wish we could have just hung out and skipped the running part. But we couldn’t.

Susan M.

Fellow Monkeys!

Jennifer P.

Jen Ski

When the race started, I tried not to get swept up in the excitement. I started off at a pace that felt comfortable and hoped that, despite my lack of long runs, I’d be able to keep it up for the entire race. Spoiler alert, I couldn’t. The short version of the story is this: I felt great for about the first 1:20 and then I didn’t. If I were looking for a cop-out, I would blame it on the beer that I drank around mile six but I know it that wasn’t it. Plus, I only took a few good swigs so it’s not like I drank the whole thing. (Note: If someone is handing out beer on the course, I will pretty much always drink it. Why not? It’s not like I’m going to win so what’s a minute or two off my time? Plus, I appreciate the effort it takes to set up a beer station. And these non-runner looking dudes in their camo just looked so thrilled to be out there. Plus, they also had bourbon and tequila. Now that’s what I call an aid station.)

Luckily, Scott G. and Szabo were at the top of the hill at mile nine, right when I was feeling my worst. Those two were cheering people on in the most amazing way and I needed every amount of amazing that I could get. They gave me exactly what I needed: the perfect mix of encouragement, tough love, and a butt slap. I hit the top of the hill with a little more pep in my step and a whole lot of love and gratitude in my heart. I guess that’s why, out of nowhere, I started to cry. I know, I know, I know. I’m such a girl but  I just couldn’t help it, and believe me, I wanted to. Crying in the middle of the race, for no ostensible reason is, well, weird. Plus, I was probably already a little dehydrated. This wasn’t helping! 

But what can I say? I was overwhelmed by how good life is and how lucky I am. I have so many amazing people in my life. And I get to do so many amazing things, like, all the time. Simply put, my life is so full in a way that it was four years ago. Really, it’s more full than it’s ever been. I have no idea what I did to deserve it, but I am so very grateful for it, and for all of you who share it with me. 

After blubbering a bit, I pulled myself together and stumbled my way into town, then to the important Denny’s landmark, and finally to the finish. I felt pretty crummy at the end so I’m taking that as a lesson learned and will make sure I’m better trained and better prepared for the next race.

Once the race was done and we had basked in the spring sun, we returned back to the lodge so we could ice our legs in the Colorado River. Plopping your butt down in an icy river isn’t for the faint of heart but it helps with recovery, or so they say. I think it was mostly a nice way to spend even more time with good friends. After that, we got cleaned up and headed back to town for some food and a little shopping before ending the day with a bonfire.

And if all of that wasn’t enough on its own, Scott G., Szabo and I capped off the weekend with a little mountain biking on Sunday. I haven’t really been mountain biking in years so those two took it easy on me, which I appreciated. And, we also hiked up to see some pretty cool dinosaur tracks.

So I had a rough race, but I didn't let that stop me from having a  great weekend. And so nice to see how far I’ve come in the last four years. It will be interesting to see where I'm at in four more.