The official results are in, and I did better than last year on several counts.

Last Year: 1:43:20
This Year: 1:39:26

Last Year: 403rd
This Year: 283rd

Last Year: Had to make a pit stop 2.5 miles in
This Year: Had to make a pit stop 5.5 miles in but didn’t…just suffered

I wasn’t in as good a shape this time around. In 2006, the race felt effortless, which makes me think I probably could have done much better if I had any idea what I was doing.

But despite the struggle, the half marathon doesn’t hold a candle to the marathon itself. Maybe that means I need to train more for the marathon, I don’t know. All I remember is wanting to die after the marathon and getting a crotch full of ice instead. After the half, you grab a banana and a cookie and go home at a light skip singing songs of summer days and butterflies. You don’t leave with the same sense of accomplishment. And as much as it hurts me to say it, I think I pine for that sense of accomplishment. You know what that means? Another [redacted] marathon.

Why can’t I get a sense of accomplishment lounging in a lazy-boy and drinking Tecate? What’s fair about that?!

Planned: 13.1mi @ ~1:42:00
Actual: 13.1mi @ 1:39:26

My friend Phil is running her first marathon this weekend in Vegas (I think). The only thing that matches my excitement about seeing one of my friends take up that challenge is my excitement about not having to run another 13 miles this morning.

There were several issues related to last year’s race from toilet access to damaged pride that I was leery of as the race got closer. This year wasn’t nearly as dramatic. The weather was chilly but perfect for running. The course is really exceptional starting in Griffith Park, taking you past the Silverlake Reservoir and into downtown. I wasn’t as prepared this time around which I could feel by mile three, but I was able to hold a 7:30 pace until around mile 9 when I got a cramp in my shoulder that wouldn’t go away for a couple of miles necessitating a Buddah-like breathing regimen in the hopes that I could deaden the pain by giving my muscle more oxygen. (Ironically, I’ve been reading another series of articles at the Science of Sport about cramps and how we don’t really know why they happen or how to stop them, so I totally should have known better.)

Once I got mile 11 behind me, things started looking up if for no other reason than I realized there was a finish line and I had a pretty good chance of crossing it soon. Mile 13 was a blur. I started getting a lot of challenges from other runners and, at first, I didn’t think I would be able to answer them, but when I saw 2nd street in the distance, I knew we were close so I notched it up a gear and slowly started catching up.

In the last two hundred yards I was able to reel in three or four people who I had only known from their backs for most of the race. My switch to a sprint in the last hundred yards probably comes off as me being kind of a jerk to the spectators, but I don’t really care. I’ve done that since cross country and it can mostly be attributed to the fact that I’m not very good at pacing myself which leaves me with more energy at the end than I should have. Why not use it?

It took about 45 minutes for the bag people to find my bag. When I got home, I took a shower and a nap. And I just got up from nap number two.

Thanks to T for cheering. I know I looked tired. I was.

I’m not sure about the future. I have this masters degree that I haven’t put to good use, and I’m afraid the running keeps me from a more creative routine. Since it’s cold and dark now, I may take a couple of months to regroup before setting out again. I know I vowed I was done with marathons for a couple of years, but I can’t help but think that a San Diego time under 3:30 is totally within my grasp (seeing as my last one was 3:35). The future is uncertain.

Time (1/2 Marathon) - 1:43:20
Time (10K) - 51…something
Pace - 7:53/mi
Place - 403

For a first attempt, I’m very happy. And a HUGE thank you to you guys who came out to cheer. I know you said you were going to do it, but I totally didn’t believe you. I am a big jerk. I have to confess, the only person I saw was Tamara. I heard at least one guy (Louie? Waller?) but when I looked for you, all I could find was a very large bearded man that I didn’t recognize. So I’m pretty sure he wasn’t cheering for me by name.

Here’s a quick blow by blow:

1. Got to Disney Symphony Hall at 6:15am. Freezing. Dark.
2. Took “shuttle” (aka school bus) back to Train Town in Griffith Park. More freezing than before (the sun hadn’t come over the hill yet). Had to use the facilities…as did approximately 1000 other people.
3. Waited in line for said facilities for 20 minutes. Was warned by an official that the race was starting. Still wearing sweats (and yet shivering uncontrollably) and carrying bag. Left facilities line and told self to suck it up.
4. Stripped off sweats (aka tights), stuffed them in bag. Handed bag to official. Ran to the line.
5. Waited for longer than it would have taken me to use the facilities. However, enjoying being surrounded by warm bodies.
6. Herded to starting line further down Zoo Drive. National Anthem, Blessing by Native Americans. Freezing again. Trying to figure out the best time to start my Nike+ workout. Three false starts while waiting, one of which due to uncontrollable shivering.
7. Race starts. Glorious be.
8. Takes about a minute and a half to actually reach the starting line (5000 runners total — makes sense). Thankfully, chip timing. Sweet.
9. Start.
10. Lots and lots of body dodging.
11. Mile 3 - clear now that skipping the facilities was a bad idea and would soon cause problems. Tried a set of porta-poties — all padlocked. Kept running. Fearing worst. Found another set of porta-poties. Rudely edged out middle aged woman. Details of the visit not important but somewhat eventful.
12. Exiting the potty, tried to restart paused Nike+ workout. Informed that Nike+ workout ended. Blind with anger.
13. Running off anger.
14. Get over anger and, rather than run silent, spend about a minute trying to run and get music to play with my stupid, windowless iPod case. Success.
15. Arrive at Silverlake Blvd. (I think) to see and hear friends cheering. Irrationally speed up. Realize I had sped up but not wanting to look weak in front of friends, continue at same pace…uphill. Praise self for my insecurity.
16. Somehow able to maintain sped-up pace even out of sight of friends. In fact, feeling pretty good and passing people right and left. Realize that I have passed some of these people before (stupid porta-potty stop). Discouraged, but still feeling good.
17. Before I know it I’m at Mile 10. Get it into head that all I have in front of me is a 5K. Treat it as such and surge forward again.
18. Think better of treating last three miles as a 5K, but no adjustments made. Starting to hurt. Truly, I wasn’t in any kind of pain until the last mile and a half. It was awesome.
19. Thinking back to the map, swear that one of the last streets is Temple and decide that I will speed up at Temple.
20. Don’t see Temple.
21. Don’t see Temple. Go into a tunnel. People speeding up. Speed up in kind but only out of competitive compulsion, not because I think we’re close to the end.
22. Turn corner and see Finish Line about 200 yards away. Admonish self and kick it into high gear. Pass about ten people on the way to the finish line. Finish. Still feeling pretty good. Wondering if I should have been running faster. Eat a banana and go home.

Every time I do one of these things, I learn something new. While on the bus, I chuckled at a man wearing a disposable poncho. “Does he think it’s going to rain?” I said superiorly. My seat-mate then told me that she had one too and that they help you stay warm after you’ve taken off your sweats. Just chuck it right before you start running. Doh.

I know there are a couple more races between now and the Marathon (the Firecracker 10K in Chinatown, for instance), but I think I’m going to take a break. It’s getting colder and I want to start training for the big one instead of smaller races leading up to the big one. I refuse to have another bad marathon experience.

It’s all marathon, all the time from here on out.