Are We Having Fun Yet?

I'm often asked "Did you have fun?" following the conclusion of some athletic endurance event. The answer is complicated.


See, when I think of fun, I think "I could do this for another four hours and still be having a great time." Like riding roller coasters. However, after finishing a half marathon or triathlon, I'm pretty much spent. Another four hours of it would kill me. Heck, another 30 minutes would kill me. And often, in the midst of said event, I'm thinking "this was really dumb".


But amazingly, when I finish, I'm (1) happy I did it and (2) ready to sign up again. For a few weeks down the road. Definitely not for, like, tomorrow or anything.


And so was the case on Saturday. In the spring, I convinced two friends to do a half marathon with me in August. August being so far away and everything. I ran a half marathon with one of them a year and a half ago (a truly bad idea, since it was January and a week after a cruise to Mexico--warm, warm Mexico--in which I had gained 7 pounds. But at least I would PR in this August's half marathon despite pretty much whatever happened). The other one just started running consistently this May.


I self-penned an insane schedule that loosely followed something I found on the internet (yes! Love the internet). I calculated our pace times and our intended target for the race. We were going to try to hit a 2:15 half marathon, which equates to roughly 10:15/mile. (Slow. Okay. I know. But it is 13.1 miles.).

H., who began running in May, blew us all away this summer. She ran her fastest 5k in July at under 25 minutes and finished 2nd in our age group for the triathlon. When I sat down to calculate her theoretical time for the half, it was possible she could come in under 2 hours, an unbelievable pace for someone who (a) has four kids (b) is still nursing baby #4 (c) hasn't had a full night's sleep in over 15 months and (d) just started running in May. I was a little tentative to tell her the good(?) news, but I did. And she was understandably quite nervous and excited. A 2 hour half marathon is a 9 minute pace, and it's definitely an admirable goal.

C. and I are about the same pace, though C. is a machine and doesn't have to abide by the same rules me, as a human, has to. Like naps. Or walking breaks. She also has 4 kids, though hers are a little older than H.'s but not by much. A 2:15 half marathon would take nearly 6 minutes off of her time from the one we did in 2008 together.

Saturday, we started off, and naturally, H. was gone before we knew it. C. and I stayed together for at least the first three miles. I don't remember much between miles 3 and 5, just that at one point, I realized that I had started out way too fast and I was going to pay a price come mile 10 if I didn't rein it in, so I told her I was going to slow down a bit, but that she should keep running at her current speed if she felt comfortable.

At around mile 5, I saw C. veer off towards some restrooms, and being the good friend I am, I walked until she caught back up to me. (Yeah, because I'm a good friend. Nothing more. Just being a friend. Right. Right.) She caught up a lot faster than I thought she would (dang it) and then I'm not sure when I lost her again. Somewhere. I was still fighting my inner demon to take a nap. I didn't see her again until the finish line.

I fumbled my way to mile 9 and then I really was going to pull out of the race. My left knee hurt SO bad, I didn't think I was going to make it. But, the race organizers only give t-shirts to those that finish and dang it if I wasn't going to get my t-shirt, so I mustered the strength and continued forth.

At mile 10, I posed for the picture. I *think* maybe this one turned out decent enough. I'm still waiting for the picture to post, so consider this your warning for the next blog entry.

Miles 10-13 kind of passed in a daze. It was like 1000 degrees and my insides were frying, though the overwhelming need to take a nap had diminished.

At the finish line, I saw a familiar face. A friend from Orem (THANKS Juliana) had come down to watch me run in. I was surprised that she lasted as long as she did, considering I was 11 minutes slower than I thought and we were 45 minutes late getting started at the top. But there she was. It was great to see someone cheering me on.

After I ran through the finish line and was informed that there were no more t-shirts left (I have to wait for mine to arrive in the mail), I found my two training buddies.

H. blew 2:15 out of the sky. 1:55. That's an 8:51/mile pace (yeah, you try it!). I don't even want to think what she's going to be like when she's getting a full night's rest and not nursing. C. did awesome too at 2:09, including the bathroom stop. A full six minutes faster than our intended target.

As I mentioned in a previous post, the three of us train together really well because we all bring something unique to the table. H., obviously, is the fastest. But she's not in-your-face about it. She slows down--claims it's funner that way--so she can run with us snails. But having her in the group makes us faster. C. is a machine. She hardly ever misses a workout even if it's scheduled for an insane time or it's hotter than hell (one or two workouts bordered on that this summer) or there's rain or lightning or her leg is broken. She'd probably do the workout and then go to the hospital.

My talent--I'm the brains behind the operation. I put together the training numbers. I calculate the paces and offer encouragement. I also keep the blog of our training. They say I make them laugh on occassion, and really, how boring would training be if you didn't laugh, right? So I'm important. I am. I am.

Though I came in at a disappointing (to me) time of 2:26:08, I still shaved over 24 minutes off my time from 2008. And that was with having a baby inbetween and a hurt knee and everything.

But the real payoff came when I finally found my buddies at the finish line and H. teared up when she told me her time because she was so proud. I felt like a mother hen. It didn't matter how slow I was. I was still instrumental in helping her reach her potential. Sometimes you just need someone to tell you you can do it. And help you get there. And be there when you do do it. And hug you because you did it, even if she didn't.

So, what's our next plan: St. George Marathon 2010, baby. You heard it here first. Because, even though I thought the half marathon was a dumb idea at mile 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, and 12 (11 was looking pretty good), the memory didn't last long. We've only "hypothetically" theorized about the M-word but I think the three of us agreed that 2010 is the year for us. Maybe we'll even take pictures this time. And, though I can dream of making it to Boston next year, I don't think it's going to happen. I have a lot of time to make up. But, I would love for the three of us to go. That would be AWESOME!! Maybe I can convince them to all do another marathon when I'm ready to qualify.

So, did I have fun? YES! But it more the company (and the running skirts) then the actual running part. If only I could convince all of you that it's not the running part that makes it so much fun, then you'd all be out there with me. Remember: It's the journey, not the destination.