I'll have a double: Austin Half Marathon Race Review

I can't wait til the end. I PRed. Again. Coming into Sunday I had zero expectations for the race. Last weekend I'd run well, but it was on a flat beach. What's more, my foot pod said I only ran 12.9 miles. Could it be I didn't run a 2:02 after all?

Fear not! My calibration of my foot pod is off; the race was a complete half marathon, but I didn't know that when I was fretting about my Austin performance. Sure, Surfside went well, but who runs fast 2 weeks in a row? Besides, the famed downhill Austin course was replaced with a decidedly hillier version in 2007. Considering I'm running in a pool right now, I'm not so much into the hill training. I decided that I wanted to just run a strong negative-split half marathon. 2:11? Sounds like a fine goal time to me.

Until Saturday rolled around. After riding the hills with no soreness I knew I could run the steeper, shorter versions of the run course. I wanted to break 2 hours. And, well, I wanted to beat my friends; the Houston marathon was painful for me and my pride, and we needed some vindication.

We got downtown at 5 bleeping 20 in the bleeping morning. It was freezing, and we dawdled in getting away from the warm car, then in the warm at&t oasis til 6:50. Another reason I was pokey? I hadn't used the facilities yet. I've never run without, well, moving other parts of my insides first, and I didn't want any trouble during the race. E offered me Imodium, but I really believe that you should be able to regulate your body so that you don't need antipoop drugs come race day (unless you drink Mt. Dew during the race-- of course). What was wrong?

Rewind to Friday lunch, when I went to a Brazilian steakhouse. Instead of my 6-8 servings of fruits and veggies at noontime, I had meat on top of meat on top of meat. Holy shit it was good, but it cemented my digestive tract for days--And that's no easy task in my neighborhood. Still, come Sunday morning there was nothing I could do. We got on the bridge at 6:50, turned back toward the Capitol to watch some fireworks, and suddenly were off!

We had started by the 4:30 pace sign-- which was within 5 feet of the 4:15, 4:45, and 5:00 pace signs. Pace setters didn't seem to know their asses from potholes, which doesn't make sense to me. Shouldn't those people be in place before folks line up? Couldn't marks be made on the bridge to indicate where they should stand? Did anyone plan that part of the race at all? Oh sigh. Never mind-- it was so crowded that I don't think it would have helped our case to be in better positioning. Heck, we were passing walkers a mile into the race. What idiot walker starts in the front or middle of the pack? I ditched everyone right away (not that they were far behind me) and focused on passing people. Geez, there were so many! 9:31 first mile, and it wasn't pretty. 9:12. 8:52. 8:57 (I think there was a hill). 4 miles in and I felt fabulous. Mile 5 I got a Hammer gel in, but was shocked when it was cold when entering my mouth. It didn't go down smoothly and my stomach hurt through 6 and 7 (where I was holding my pace at just under 9:03 per mile). I was doing really well, and on track for a sub 2-hr race. But could I hold it?

Just as I passed mile 7 some old dude wearing all black save an American flag bandana passed me. "I've been trying to catch you for 4 miles!" He exclaimed, running off. Now, I don't care how nice of a man he was-- he was old and I wasn't letting him out of my sight. For the next 4 miles, Dennis (I later found out) was within 20 feet of me. And even though he stopped for water more than I did, I couldn't catch the geezer. Bugger!

I got my second gel in at mile 9 at a Pirates of the Caribbean aid station, which I *just* loved. This gel was warm (and freaking delicious! I love you Hammer raspberry!) and went down easy. I continued on. Just before mile 10 the halfers turned off, missing out on a hill--yea! A 5k left and I was nowhere near going over 2 hours. My new goal was to beat 2 hours on the clock. I was pretty sure I'd started around 3 minutes after the gun (which we never heard... not that we were paying attention seeing as they shot off fireworks at the very same time) and could make a 1:57. I didn't bank on two enormous hills. At mile 11-- on the first superhill-- I finally caught up with Dennis again. "I've been trying to catch you for 4 miles!" I said. He seemed surprised but pleased to see me. "Wait up, I need some water!" he said. We both stopped at the aid station, but I left a few steps in front of him. I was on a mission.

Blah, blah, run, run, last mile. I was bookin'. We turned toward the finish past the state capital building, and I was struck by the fact I was running in my state capital. What a strange thought, here in the middle of a race. Oh well. A few minutes later I was racing a huge dude who'd started his kick, but I couldn't keep up. Then I saw the clock: 2:01:36, and I was still far away! I was shocked it'd taken so long to cross the starting line and crushed that I missed my secondary goal. I crossed the mat in 2:02:05 gun time.

And 1:56:32 chip time. Awesome!

Of course, I could have gone faster. I zoned out in mile 5 and mile 8, my first mile was way too slow, and my heart rate never crept past 153 except on the hills and my very last sprint. Nevertheless I ran the race well, negative splitting the bastard by about 90 seconds. I also did well with my nutrition.

Post race I ganked some bananas and granola bars (poor spoils compared to a finisher shirt-- Austin doesn't give them for the half. Is the half significantly cheaper than other 1/2s that get shirts? No. They're just a-holes that way) and met up with my friends, all of whom had had good races. B was 58 seconds behind me but never saw me the whole way, strange because I was wearing yellow. Ah well. We got some Kerbey Lane breakfast, showered, and headed outta town, back to Sunday chores and Monday dread.

You know what? I loved Austin. I really didn't want to but the fact is the place felt like a Texas Cincinnati. I liked the size and the training venues. I liked the hills. Things that did suck were the prevalence of Christian and Spanish radio stations--4+ of each-- and a lack of racial diversity, which I guess isn't too surprising for a Texas mid-sized city. Still, seeing lots and lots of white people always makes me feel uncomfortable, like I'm doing something wrong. That aside, I want to live there. Craig doesn't. But that's a problem for another day, not now while I am still basking in the second race of my life that I'm truly proud of. And not now while my calves are SO sore from riding and running. And not while I'm hoping my PT doesn't notice how very tender my feet are.

Now is a happy time... full of ass-kicking. Hopefully my PR streak lasts through Saturday when I do my last illegal run and try to break 50 in the Rodeo Run. Don't worry, I'll let you know in a ridiculously long and excited post. It's just what I do.