The Half

I realized that I never gave an update on the insanity that was the Country Music Half-Marathon.  And I know how much y'all have probably been waiting on the edge of your seats.

Or not.

But really, this needs to be documented, just in case I ever get a wild hair to do another one.  (Is that even the right phrase?  Or should it be "a wild hare?"  And you care because?)

(Oh yeah.  You don't.)

So, we arrived at the starting line, mentally cursing the early hour refreshed and ready to go.  John had decided to run, after, oh yeah, that's right, NOT TRAINING. 

He was all:  "So, babe, did you want me to run with you?

(Which really meant, "Exactly how upset will you be if I take off like a Kenyan runner?")

And I was all:  "No, sweetie, you just go ahead and have fun!"

(Which really meant, "I may or may not be harboring bitterness in my heart at you for your ability to run a 7 minute mile pace. FOR THIRTEEN MILES.)

Here's a play-by-play of what I was thinking at each mile marker.....I'm fairly positive this is an accurate account.

Mile 1:  Wow, this is so easy!  Look, I just ran an 8 minute mile!  And I'm barely out of breath.  This is going to be a total breeze.  Does anyone other than 65 year olds say "a total breeze?"  Maybe I'll go ahead and sign up for another half-marathon next month.


Mile 2:  Hmmm, this uphill kinda stinks.  But, that's okay, I'm feeling good.  Ooh, I hope that race photographer just got a photo while my hair isn't yet plastered to my head w/ sweat. 


Mile 3:  Why are we still going uphill?  What's that about?  Maybe I should've used that porta-potty right before the race, 'cause I kinda have to pee.  Just stop thinking about it, and the urge will leave you, Sherri. 


Mile 4:  Really?  STILL going uphill?  Let's grab some of that gatorade over there.  YUCK, what is this crap?  It tastes like chalk.  Okay, let's think about something else.  I wonder what happened on Grey's Anatomy?  I believe I shall reward myself with some tv time when I finish this darn race.


Mile 5:  Are you KIDDING me?  The people that were at the front of the race are already passing me??  And they're now on MILE ELEVEN?!?!?!  Show-offs.


Mile 6:  Gotta pee, gotta pee, gotta pee..........don't some runners wet their pants during a race, just to save time?  Hmmm, not THAT concerned with my time though, so does anybody SEE A DANG PORTA POTTY??


Mile 7:  Ahhhhh, sweet relief.  There's one.  And there are only 15 people in front of me.  I'm sure that extra 10 minutes won't add too much to my time.


Mile 8:  Did that jerk really just tell me only FIVE miles to go?  Thank you.  Thank you so much.  That's INCREDIBLY motivating.


Mile 9:  Starting to realize my sub-2 hour delusion goal was hugely a teeny tiny bit unrealistic.


Mile 10:  Are those people handing out cake frosting on a stick?  I could really use some sugar right now.  Wait, what?  That's vaseline? 

Mile 11:  WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????????????????

Mile 12:  I am going to eat EVERYTHING IN SIGHT when I'm done.  Also, please let that tornado brewing in those dark clouds wait until I am safely done with this horrifying ordeal.

Mile 13:  Almost done, almost done, almost done......Pick it up, girl, that old man SO isn't finishing in front of you! 

And that about sums it up.  I pretty much couldn't walk down stairs for about a day and a half.  For the record, neither could John, even though he was a show-off, and finished in an hour and 53 minutes!  Without training. 

Sickening.