Several years ago, I decided that I wanted to run a half marathon. Not a full marathon (because I'm not crazy), just a half (maybe half crazy). I could never decide when to run it, though, because a spring race would mean training during the frigid Boston winter but a summer or fall race would mean training while on vacation. So, for years, I thought "one day I'll do this," but I never made it happen.
Until now!
November 2016 was the first annual Cambridge half marathon, and when I heard about it, it sounded perfect: local (so I wouldn't have to travel far on race day), scenic (along the Charles River, where I run normally), and in late fall (meaning I wouldn't have to train during the winter and I could be forgiven for skipping a few runs while on vacation). Plus, I'd be turning 30 in 2017, and that seemed like a good milestone for running 13 miles. So one evening in late August, in a moment of unrestrained optimism, I registered for the race on November 19, 2017, and downloaded a training plan.
From Day 1, I was already nervous. Most of the training plans called for 16 or 18 weeks of running, and while I wasn't starting from total couch-potato, I wasn't exactly in peak shape. In fact, registering for the race (or, more specifically, spending the money to register for the race) was the only way I felt like I would be disciplined enough to run regularly. But if you do the math, late August to mid-November gave me closer to 12 weeks to train. I hadn't even started, and I was already behind.
As I started training, though, I found that I really loved it. The first day I ran more than eight miles - a new personal best - was exciting. And then, after my first long run - 11 miles - I was thrilled to realize that my legs felt less jellyish than I'd feared, I didn't have massive blisters, and I was actually confident that I could run 13 miles. Before that run, I'd still doubted that I'd be able to pull it off.
The downside of training was the time commitment. I was running almost daily: most days, I'd run between four and six miles, which took about an hour, but at least once a week I would do a longer run of eight to 11 miles, and that would take a solid two hours. Given how early the sun sets in Boston in the fall, I was running during my lunch break at work during the week. And once you factor in time for changing clothes, stretching, and cooling down, a one-hour run turns into an almost two-hour lunch break.
To maximize efficiency during that time, I listened to French language podcasts as I ran. You can get through a lot of episodes when you're running 6+ hours per week. (On my long runs, I listened to Wait Wait Don't Tell Me instead, wanting to be transported to a bright, funny world where I wouldn't notice my aching feet. This had the amusing effect of occasionally causing me to burst into laughter while surrounded by other, more stoic runners.)
When race day finally came, I was feeling surprisingly confident. I hadn't set a time goal for myself, hoping instead just to run the whole thing without stopping. The weather was much warmer than it had been, which normally would have made racing tough, but it was also off-and-on drizzly, which meant that the heat wouldn't bother me so much. (It would, however, make my feet pruney and peel-y.) The race course was really fun, taking us through MIT and Harvard and along the Charles River. There were a few spots where puddles slowed down the pack, including one deep puddle underneath a pedestrian bridge, but since I wasn't concerned about time I just kept running in place while waiting for my turn to slosh around the edges. I felt pretty good until about mile eight, at which point I realized I still had five miles to go and began to feel a little tired. Once I hit mile 10, though, I got a second wind of excitement--I was nearing the end! I could do this! I was doing this! And then, at about mile 12.5, I saw Colin waiting up ahead, cheering me on and ready with the camera. I picked up my pace and my energy as I ran past, super excited to be so close to the finish line.
I couldn't help but smile as I crossed the finish line because this had been a goal of mine for so long. My legs felt like jello, my feet were wet, and my pace was a little slower than hoped, but I ran the whole thing and had the finisher's medal and the calluses to prove it. And while I was grateful to have free time back in my life, I had also discovered the joys of long runs. I loved getting to know the city better through those runs, and I loved feeling like a "real" runner. At the same time, the race confirmed my desire never to run anything longer than a half marathon (ugh, can you imagine?!). So who knows--maybe I'll run another half one day, or maybe I'll just keep running on my own, knowing that I'm perfectly capable of knocking out 10 miles at a time. In any case: goal achieved. 13.1 miles in the bag.
Net time: 2:13:02
Pace: 10:09
Until now!
November 2016 was the first annual Cambridge half marathon, and when I heard about it, it sounded perfect: local (so I wouldn't have to travel far on race day), scenic (along the Charles River, where I run normally), and in late fall (meaning I wouldn't have to train during the winter and I could be forgiven for skipping a few runs while on vacation). Plus, I'd be turning 30 in 2017, and that seemed like a good milestone for running 13 miles. So one evening in late August, in a moment of unrestrained optimism, I registered for the race on November 19, 2017, and downloaded a training plan.
From Day 1, I was already nervous. Most of the training plans called for 16 or 18 weeks of running, and while I wasn't starting from total couch-potato, I wasn't exactly in peak shape. In fact, registering for the race (or, more specifically, spending the money to register for the race) was the only way I felt like I would be disciplined enough to run regularly. But if you do the math, late August to mid-November gave me closer to 12 weeks to train. I hadn't even started, and I was already behind.
As I started training, though, I found that I really loved it. The first day I ran more than eight miles - a new personal best - was exciting. And then, after my first long run - 11 miles - I was thrilled to realize that my legs felt less jellyish than I'd feared, I didn't have massive blisters, and I was actually confident that I could run 13 miles. Before that run, I'd still doubted that I'd be able to pull it off.
The downside of training was the time commitment. I was running almost daily: most days, I'd run between four and six miles, which took about an hour, but at least once a week I would do a longer run of eight to 11 miles, and that would take a solid two hours. Given how early the sun sets in Boston in the fall, I was running during my lunch break at work during the week. And once you factor in time for changing clothes, stretching, and cooling down, a one-hour run turns into an almost two-hour lunch break.
To maximize efficiency during that time, I listened to French language podcasts as I ran. You can get through a lot of episodes when you're running 6+ hours per week. (On my long runs, I listened to Wait Wait Don't Tell Me instead, wanting to be transported to a bright, funny world where I wouldn't notice my aching feet. This had the amusing effect of occasionally causing me to burst into laughter while surrounded by other, more stoic runners.)
When race day finally came, I was feeling surprisingly confident. I hadn't set a time goal for myself, hoping instead just to run the whole thing without stopping. The weather was much warmer than it had been, which normally would have made racing tough, but it was also off-and-on drizzly, which meant that the heat wouldn't bother me so much. (It would, however, make my feet pruney and peel-y.) The race course was really fun, taking us through MIT and Harvard and along the Charles River. There were a few spots where puddles slowed down the pack, including one deep puddle underneath a pedestrian bridge, but since I wasn't concerned about time I just kept running in place while waiting for my turn to slosh around the edges. I felt pretty good until about mile eight, at which point I realized I still had five miles to go and began to feel a little tired. Once I hit mile 10, though, I got a second wind of excitement--I was nearing the end! I could do this! I was doing this! And then, at about mile 12.5, I saw Colin waiting up ahead, cheering me on and ready with the camera. I picked up my pace and my energy as I ran past, super excited to be so close to the finish line.
I couldn't help but smile as I crossed the finish line because this had been a goal of mine for so long. My legs felt like jello, my feet were wet, and my pace was a little slower than hoped, but I ran the whole thing and had the finisher's medal and the calluses to prove it. And while I was grateful to have free time back in my life, I had also discovered the joys of long runs. I loved getting to know the city better through those runs, and I loved feeling like a "real" runner. At the same time, the race confirmed my desire never to run anything longer than a half marathon (ugh, can you imagine?!). So who knows--maybe I'll run another half one day, or maybe I'll just keep running on my own, knowing that I'm perfectly capable of knocking out 10 miles at a time. In any case: goal achieved. 13.1 miles in the bag.
Net time: 2:13:02
Pace: 10:09
 |
| Me, at mile 12.8ish. Double thumbs up! |
 |
| After crossing the finish line. I'm officially a half-marathoner! |
