I DID IT!!!

Last Sunday I ran the Kirkland Half-Marathon. The night before the race, I went to bed at 9:30 to ensure that I'd get my full eight hours of sleep (I really can't function with anything less than eight hours, especially if I'm running 13.1 miles the next day). I woke up the next morning well-rested but nervous. Anyway, I'll cut to the good stuff. My first goal was just to finish the rest without dying. My second goal was to finish the rest and run the whole time. My third goal was to finish the race in 2 hr 11 min, which averages out to 10-minute splits. I am happy and proud to say that I accomplished all three of my goals. I won't say what my time was, not because I'm not proud of it, but because for me, this race wasn't about speed-- it was about distance and stamina, and seeing what my body was capable of (now that I know what it's capable of, I should probably start holding myself to higher athletic standards...maybe a marathon is in my future after all).

Here's a play-by-play of how the whole thing went down, including the good (the downhill leg), the bad (the hills of horror), and the ugly (the salt deposits plastered to my face after the race from dried sweat):

The first couple miles were a piece of cake. They went by really fast, and I took a nice, slow pace. Around mile 3, there was gigantic, terrifying hill that seemed to go on forever. I tried to take my dad's advice to not lean forward as I ran up the hill (apparently most runners have an inclination to do that, at the sacrifice of good form and speed). After successfully conquering the hill, the course flattened out and I was able to speed up. As I approached mile 6, I heard the sound of music wafting through the air in the distance. Just as I recognized "Chariots of Fire," I caught sight of a guy with an electric guitar, an amp, and a giant speaker standing on the corner of the street, rocking out for all of us runners. It was awesome. The next two or three miles were all downhill, so I got a little excited and sped up. I was still feeling pretty good around mile 9, until I realized that I still was over a 5K away from finishing. By this point the ground leveled out again and the surface was flat. Soon, however, I encountered more hills (whoever planned this course was positively diabolical), and I had to use every last ounce of willpower and endurance I had to plod my way up the hills of hell. After successfully conquering one hill around mile 11, I was positive there couldn't possibly be any more-- but I was wrong. Around mile 12 there was another hill, and by the time I reached the top, there was some guy cheering for me who called out my bib number and told me to keep going. Naturally, not wanting to disappoint the one anonymous fan that I had, I kept running (if not also because that was what I'd been doing the past nearly two hours). The rest of the course was flat, and I briefly considered stopping at mile 13 when there was only one-tenth of a mile to go and calling it good. But of course I didn't. So I finished the race. I still don't have any plans of running a marathon in the near future, but I could definitely see myself doing a half again. It was fun. And even though I was completely starving by the time the race was over and my legs felt like Jell-O and I was soaked in sweat and there were blisters on my toes, it was worth it.

Race photos. (Keep in mind these were taken with about .2 miles left to go in the race...)