Turkey Trot

Perhaps it's the nature of the beast, but when you get my family together we become quite the competitive bunch. I have active parents and three married sisters, and over the years, we have mastered the art of the one-ups-man-ship in a family friendly manner. Several years ago we started the tradition of the turkey trot on Thanksgiving morning, which generally consisted of anyone willing to rise to the challenge du jour running several miles before indulging in the inevitable calorie-fest later that day. This year we took it to a whole new level and selected the Atlanta Half-Marathon as our event of choice. We definitely separated the men from the boys this year, and only four of us were crazy enough to sign up for the event, yours truly, my two older sisters and one brother-in-law.

There's nothing like rising at 5:30 am, dragging yourself out of a toasty warm bed, to go stand in the 30-something degree weather before running 13.1 miles. Might I add that 5:30 am Atlanta time is 4:30 am my time. Well before the crack of dawn. In fact it was still dark at the start of the race. Got to love that. Definitely my idea of a vacation.

I had my hesitations about running this event. I wasn't sure how my body would tolerate the stress of traveling in addition to the nerves of running such a race. Not to mention the fact that despite weeks of light (aka no) running, I still haven't overcome my injuries. I was preparing for the worst.

Well, the event went much smoother than expected. I made it to the start of the race without significant incident, then proceeded to start the trek down Peachtree St. Seriously, I think 12 of our 13.1 miles were run down this one road, as it winds it's way through the greater Atlanta area. Having never really gotten out and about in the city, my sister lives in the northern burbs, the race was a great way to see the city. Back to the race.

I went on a 9-mile training run last weekend, not the most pleasant , so I wasn't surprised when the old familiar aches and pains started kicking in around mile 2.5. This was a little earlier than I had expected, which made the thought of finishing the 13.1 miles a bit daunting, but I trudged on. I had to start walking a bit here and there if I was going to get to the finish line, and was immediately left in the dust by the last of my family members. I was on my own to mentally tough it out.

Early on, I developed the strategy of walking the first minute or two of each mile, then running to the next mile marker as fast as possible, then repeat. When I made it to mile 6, I started to get optimistic. At mile 7, the sports beans we being handed out. Instant energizer, plus it was quite comical to see these things scattered everywhere about the street. At mile 9, I saw my family cheerleaders. At mile 10, I knew I would make it. Just a 5K to go.

Now it is quite common to have spectators along these courses cheering you on, especially for such a large event. This one also had a full marathon running along side us. There are significantly more of them along the last mile or so, urging you towards the finish line. Having not studied the course too closely, I was ecstatic when I heard one of these course liners yell "1 mile to go!" I was going to make it, but how odd... I never saw the 12 mile marker. I tried to run it out, but when I finally did see the 12 mile marker, at the top of a hill, I knew a little more walking would be necessary. Despite all the walking, when I crossed the finish line, I had finished my fastest half-marathon to date... 2:21:48. And to think this was under such adverse conditions.

I'm addicted to that moment of triumph. In fact, as I was flying back to Texas last night, reading my November copy of Runner's World, an issue highlighting the New York City Marathon, I couldn't help but think I want to do it. I want to run the marathon. It's two weeks from today. The one I've been preparing for. I haven't signed up yet. There's one more hurdle standing in my way. A doctor's appointment tomorrow morning, which will determine if my marathon dreams will come true... well, this year at least. There's no doubt in my mind that it'll happen next year. As I said, I'm addicted.