Half Time!

November 7^th, 2010:  Huzzah, back home after successfully completing my first half marathon!!!  Things went well in spite of much angst and I am excited (relieved?) to share that my time was 1:58:17, so I cleared the two hour hurdle.  But things didn’t begin smoothly…

Set my alarm for 5:45AM to get out the door by 6:30AM.  I was figuring a half hour to reach downtown Wilmington and then it would be scramble time to park and catch either a trolley or water taxi over to the battleship.  I thought training for a half marathon was a learning curve, just trying to reach the starting line was a challenge as well.  My butterflies would fly away quite easily, however.

Downtown Wilmington was eerily quiet as I puttered down the streets.  The only sign of life was several street cleaners picking up discarded beer cans.  Of course this meant I could snag a premier parking spot right on the corner of Second and Chestnut (metered parking, but not enforced on Sundays!).  Now for my first conundrum:  it was cold and windy, so I didn’t want to freeze to death waiting for the race to start…and particularly crossing the river if I wound up on a water taxi.  I put my jacket on, hoping that I could safely stow it at the starting line (I had read in the registration pamphlet that you could stuff things in a plastic bag and drop them off there).

Walked down to Water Street and spotted several other folks in running gear who were aimlessly wandering about, reassuring that I wasn’t the only lost soul.  Quickly spotted a trolley and made a beeline towards it, with the reward being that it was headed to the battleship and free!  The first wall of tension was breached and I arrived at the battleship around 7:20AM.

No lack of people like downtown, this place was teeming with humanity.  The initial mission was to find where junk could be stowed, but despite venturing inside a building there were so many people that I didn’t want to battle crowds with no clue as to where I was going.  I tarried in the entrance for a few minutes because it was warm and returned to the great outdoors around 7:35 to visit the port-o-potties.  The training book I read strongly urged you to avail yourself of such facilities before the starting gun sounded and I could see the lines were already starting to queue.

Was glad I opted to visit the facilities when I did because even when I exited the lines had already grown considerably.  After this I just walked around and took in the stands offering various wares for runners (massages for after the race, etc.) and experimented with the best way to tuck my jacket into my water belt so that it was out of the way.

Didn’t reach a successful solution to the jacket dilemma, but realized it was near enough to start time that I was okay taking the jacket off.  Well, this is when a lot of the tension evaporated as there was just the run facing me now, so let the cards fall where they may.  There was palpable excitement with the crowd pushing close together around the starting line and music blaring loudly (several local radio stations had booths set up).

Next thing I knew the announcer had released the hounds and we ambled towards the starting line.  The neat thing these days is that they embed small devices in your number tag that get sensed as you pass over the starting line, so it doesn’t matter how far back you start.  Since there were over 1,200 runners you can wind up pretty far away (they do make an announcement to allow the premier runners to congregate up front).

Though I was mindful of my doctor’s counsel to maintain a slower pace over the bridges in the beginning, the advice was for naught.  I think it was almost mile two before the mob blob broke up sufficiently for me to hit the stride I wanted, but I wasn’t complaining.  It was nice having the mild pace enforced.

Being my first long race, the first shock was witnessing how folks just toss off their warm apparel.  Right when we started I saw a hat fall off by the road side and started to holler but caught myself --- there were so many people that any squawking would have been pointless.  However, as we pushed on I noticed plenty of hats and gloves following suit and assumed folks either abandon these layers or retrieve them afterwards.  As for me, I wasn’t about to ditch my jacket…but admit feeling a bit silly with it jammed into my water belt.

Medal for completing 2010 Battleship Half Marathon

It was a good deal having two miles under my belt before picking up the pace, though I didn’t accelerate dramatically.  At every mile there was a water station, though I had to be careful and make sure I snagged a cup of water and not Gatorade from the folks manning the stations.  I was impressed by the number of volunteers they had recruited to manage the affair, and equally by the tons of people who lined the streets to cheer us on.

All of the well-wishers were enthusiastic and most seemed to be awaiting a specific participant.  It was kind of crazy how many times I heard verbal exchanges between my fellow racers and the crowd --- it was quite touching the few times I heard children shouting at mom or dad!  The constant hubbub was a welcome distraction from the solitude of my training runs and the miles slipped by.

I kept to the pace, sneaking a peek at my watch every mile marker to confirm I was tracking nine minute miles.  The other equipment malfunction I experienced was with my heart monitor.  Even though I suited up with the device strapped to my chest, by the time I made it to the battleship and started running I guess it had slipped a little and gave me crap for feedback.  It was a plus that I had abandoned the monitor as a way to set the tone, and I’m pretty sure my pace was consistent throughout the entire course.

Another concern was the plan to chow down a Clif Bar after the first hour.  I had consumed two packs of crackers before the start and constantly checked in with myself to assure I wasn’t slipping into low-blood-sugar-land.  Felt pretty good after the first hour and decided to wait a little.  The delay got a little extended because the only mile marker I missed was for mile eight, and I was beginning to doubt I would ever see another one when I glimpsed the next one and it said NINE!

On that high note I tore into a Clif Bar.  I had never eaten one of these before, least of all while running.  My sole experience with road snacks was the single Hammer Gel consumed during my ten mile training run.  As easy as the Hammer Gel had been, the Clif Bar was a bit awkward: it was difficult to open and chewing and swallowing were uncomfortable while running.  Definitely prefer the Hammer Gels but since the Clif Bar provides more fuel that lasts longer I tried to enjoy the meal and stretched the bar out over a half mile.

Hammer Gels seemed to be the snack of choice as I noticed quite a few wrappers discarded by the roadside.  Not certain whether it is acceptable to just toss trash like that, but they might do a thorough clean-up of the entire route afterwards, so perhaps the disgust is only a product of my ignorance.

An incredible realization was how the training had altered my perceptions of length.  If you had asked me six months ago to run four miles I would have paused, but today it was an easy no-brainer (this after having already plodded nine miles).  Even though I was mired in my nine minute pace, I felt no urgency or desire to try and pick it up.  At the end of the day I was now comfortable with simply registering under two hours.

Close-up of Medallion detail

The next few miles we started closing in on the battleship again, with the looming obstacle being ascending another bridge back over the Cape Fear River.  We had been forewarned to be careful not to tumble while running over the metal grating of the bridge, so I didn’t want to kill myself in the uphill preceding the grates, but still passed a few folks and had no issues.

With perhaps a mile to go I finally started to turn it on and passed more companions, though nearly as many passed me.  This is a big part of the attraction of these struggles.  You gain reassurances your efforts have elevated your fitness level, simultaneous with being compelled to recognize how much further you could go!  I was joyous when I saw the clock at the finish line and realized I would (just barely) complete the trek beneath two hours.

Phew!  It was glorious crossing the finish line and not feeling too bad.  I was herded into a line where a medal was draped over my neck, the standard token bestowed on everyone who completes a half or full marathon.  A nice memento as I crossed off the first hurdle en route to Reunion…