I snoozed my alarm a couple times race morning (a la NWM) so I ran around like a lunatic trying to get ready. It’s like a fabricated endorphin rush! Good for the nerves. Everyone should add a 30 minute late start to their pre-race regime. Trust me, I’m a doctor *
I went back and forth on whether or not I wanted to wear UnderArmor. I was nervous about the cold. Plus, The Girls need a little extra smooshing to hold em in place and I was counting on the UA to take care of that. I knew if I went without it I was in for either a) some serious under-boob chaffing or b) a black eye.
I weighed the options and, c) overheating/heat exhaustion, seemed to be the least appealing. The Girls were just going to have to deal with a turbulent ride. I pinned on my bib as we walked out the door and crammed a dry bagel down my throat.
We got 100 yards away and I realized I forgot my sunglasses. Sprinted up the stairs (counted it as a warm up) and came back to B tapping his foot looking at his watch.
me : “Relax, the start’s practically around the corner.”
Well, the starting line was. But the corrals, which were in reverse chronological order and looped around to face the start down the strip, were already PACKED and a mile long. We fought the crowd for a while and at about 6:59.55am B hopped the fence into corral #15 and another fence into his spot in #3. Close call. (Yes, I am aware my lateness is to blame)
I found my spot in corral #8 drama-free. The corrals were released at 1 minute intervals and were seamless. We came up beside a bunch of port-a-potties on our way to the start and I immediately realized I had to go. Not like “maybe I can hold it” or “I’ll stop at the first one on the course”. I mean I had to go, GO. The corral in front of us got released just as I hopped in, did my thang, and jumped back into my spot as the gun went off. Another close call, but I’m def glad I don’t have any different “close calls” to share with you regarding the poo topic.
Running down the strip was cool, and the weather was perfect, but for some reason I was in a funk. I kept my head down most of the time and didn’t really soak in the race-vibes like I usually do. I don’t know if I was too beat up about Half vs. Full, or if I was just burned out, but I tried to get in a groove and just zone out. It never happened.
I saw B around mile 6 – he’d made the turn and was heading back down the strip. I yelled like a lunatic and waived my arms at him. He saw me. And was
probably a little embarassed.
Once we made the turn I knew there was no way in hell I’d make it through the Full. My legs were lead, I was struggling to hold a steady pace, and my head was just NOT in the game.
I had been holding back in case I wanted to go for it, but once I decided on the Half I turned it up a couple notches to a comfortably-difficult pace and vowed to stay there until the finish line. And then I punched myself in the head when I realized that pace was :50 seconds/mile slower than my Half times from last year. Stupid marathon legs.
I finished in 1:58.17, a personal worst by more than 4 minutes. Like I said, we’ll leave that performance with the rest of Sin City’s secrets. Never to be brought up again. Along with the fact that I ran in Forever21 sunglasses :
Sorry to this poor show girl for getting her boa all nasty. I told her she had a shitty job touching sweaty gross runners all morning. Like a true professional she just laughed and smiled. I’m so happy I went to college.
On to more important topics : Did B survive the full? after kinda-sorta following the “last minute marathon training plan”? Yes, he did. It was not pretty. It’d be a good fight if we matched up who trained more poorly for this race. He gets an advantage I guess, since like 23,000 other people did what I did and only 5 did what he did. (thousand, that is.)
After I snaked my way under, over, and around all the people and onto the otherside of the strip, I ran (literally – it was a good cool down) to our hotel to grab some dry clothes, phones, touch up my makeup, etc. (Yes, touchup my makeup. Hush.)
Runner tracking was $5 (!!!) but I signed up for it bc I wanted to know how B was doing and hopefully see him on the course. I won’t rant bc they did issue refunds, but the damn thing didn’t work. I know they usually never do, but I figured for $5 it would. Or somebody would come hand-deliver his updates every mile with a glass of champagne and a foot rub. No dice, I guess. I camped out right before the turn back onto the strip and waited until I saw him coming down the stretch. I yelled & waived again like a lunatic (a la mile 6) and snapped this oscar-worthy acting :
We found a patch of runner/litter/Bret Michaels-free grass and relaxed for a bit. Sent updates. Took pictures. Ate. When B told me this was his last marathon EVER, I kind of laughed and asked if I could get that in writing. Don’t we all say that in the heat of the post-marathon pain? His reply :
“I’ll sign it in blood.”
Ok, so B’s done marathoning. I’ve got my eyes set on Long Beach in October as my next. Gives me just enough time to start training after the wedding in July. :)
Rock ‘n’ Roll Las Vegas Half Marathon : 1:58.17
*No I’m not, but B is. Of Physical Therapy. Which means no, he can’t write you a script for Xanax. If he could I’d steal them all anyways. Also, now that you’ve read about my shit-tastic race, I’d suggest not taking any running advice from me, at all, ever.