We arrived at the Expo on Saturday where we got a ton of little free stuff, our cool race T-shirts, and our bib and corral number. We would be at corral number 23, towards the back, because we told them ahead of time that we'd take a long time to finish. Just to be safe.
It was 1.6 miles from our hotel to the starting line. Driving there would be impossible because of the crowds and road closures, so we got a nice warm-up on the way. We found our corral and inched forward as each "wave" was released to start. I found myself getting totally emotional and annoyed at myself at the same time. Why tears right now? Come on...
We took a picture of ourselves and I worried about posting it to Facebook, announcing to everyone that we were crazy enough to start a half marathon. "But Chad, maybe I shouldn't share this... what if we don't finish?" And he said, "But what if we do finish?"
Post shared.
Oh my gosh. Here we are at the start line. What the heck are these tears doing streaming down my face? Who am I right now? Chad knows better than to address them. Instead we admire all the people around us wearing tutus and crazy-colored clothing. It was the perfect overcast, not-too-hot day for a run.
And here we are. Time to start "running." I take off with a trot. Chad trots for a bit too, partly to humor me and partly to get out of everyone's way. We had been scrunched up like sardines. I look ahead and someone is dressed in a joker costume with a sign that says, "Only 13 miles to go!" Oh my gosh.
Someone in front of me has a shirt that says, "If you can read this, I'm not last." I start to jog and leave Chad in the dust. I soon realize this is silly because I'm just going to wait for him later... Definitely not doing something this crazy by myself. Power walking it is.
Throughout the race there were bands lined up playing cool tunes. There were cheerleaders, and people sitting on their lawn. One sign said, "I don't know you, but I believe in you." Another said, "blisters are temporary, online stats are forever." And my personal favorite, "Worst parade ever."
We had ice, "Gu," water, and Gatorade to refuel with about every mile. At the half-way point there were a ton of people cheering for us, and people looked right at us saying "You can do this!!" Emotions overflowed again.
It sure was a good thing we stuck together because by mile 8, holy Moses. My feet were hurting worse than any full-day shopping trip around the entire Ontario Mills Mall. Far worse. They felt like they were going to explode, and I thought of nothing else but my feet. Chad distracted me with conversations about our favorite rides at Disneyland. It worked for a while, but mile 10 was where I started to cry. Different tears this time. I stopped twice during this mile and laid on the filthy ground with my feet in the air. An old lady consoled me and later ran ahead of us like it was no big deal. As I was mid-sentence complaining about my feet, an athletic-looking person in one of those laying down wheelchairs whizzed past me (going the opposite direction, but still). He had no legs. "I feel awesome right now," I said.
The "sweeper van" was about 40 feet behind us at this point. That was our ride to the finish line if we were too slow. The streets had to re-open soon. Am I going to make it? Stress.
At mile 11 I began to count every step out loud. Chad guesstimated that we had maybe 2,000 more steps left. I counted every step up to 1,700 and started looking for the finish line. Tears started again because at this point, there was no way I was getting in that van.
Tears tears tears. Thoughts of pain and oh-my-gosh-we-are-nuts! Chad tells me to stop because I'm making him cry too... Because we are just a few feet from the finish line. Some people on the sidelines read our names on our bibs and cheer us on. "Way to go Chad!" "You got this Sam!!" The super energetic announcer girl approaches us and gives us high-fives. We hold hands and look at each other in a moment of pure awesomeness as we cross the finish line.
We. Freakin. DID IT!
We put our medals on each other and I basically collapsed to the ground because of how heavy mine was. We got some free chocolate milk and guzzled it. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to get up, and I was almost right. There was no way I'd be able to walk the 1.6 miles back to the hotel like we planned, so we took a cab. We could barely move the entire night and the next day. Room service, anyone?
Two things I learned from this experience: 1. Running is still not my favorite thing. Not even close. 2. People who do half marathons are somehow absolutely nuts yet totally awesome at the same time, because oh my gosh...
The best part of this whole thing was being able to do something I would have NEVER ever thought I would even consider signing up for, and to totally conquer it WITH the person I love the most. That made it completely worth every painful step.
A special thanks to our friends Michelle and Bobby for talking us into this, and for sending Tylenol and cold water bottles to our room. You are the best!! :)
Great Job! Love you guys!
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