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This is loooong..........<br>
my apologies.<br><br>
Stitch<br>
-------------<br><br><b><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">The EVENT</span></span></b><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Off we all walk, down and around a bit, to the start. WAIT! We’re going the OTHER direction. Sheesh. So, everyone turns around…I find the back (I like the back…the back is my friend), and as soon as I’m set, got the watch on “chrono” off we go. We do a little box shaped thing in the parking lot, and we end up on the “rolling hills” of the local roads. One of the Sat. morning runners commented that I seemed to be starting fast for me…and as soon as she said that, I realized it and relaxed a bit. I didn’t try to slow down, just tried to relax. The first part of this course is also the same course as our Summer 5K series used to be, so I’m fairly familiar with the road. It’s also the same as the “Tough 10/Tough 2” race that we have every year. The police support for the race was EXCELLENT. There were at least 2 different patrol cars (I’m not sure if there were more) that were constantly driving the course with their flashy lights on. I know that their presence made the drivers a bit more careful when they were on the course. It’s not a closed course, so everyone has to be more alert, but there is a bike lane the whole way, so runners have a place to go when there are oncoming cars. Only 1 driver was a ******* “stupid head” as he exited his neighborhood and turned onto the course. I’m certainly impressed at how he was able to make his tires spin….NOT!</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Yeah, it’s cold, but not too bad. It’s raining, but not too bad. I feel pretty good through the first 4 miles or so. I was able to stay relaxed, held my breathing together pretty well, and felt as if I had managed to settle in to a steady pace, though not what you’d call “quick.” The biggest challenge was making sure that I didn’t splash through any standing or flowing water. I knew my shoes were going to get wet, soaked even, but I didn’t want to make it EASY for Mother Nature to do it.</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Mile 1: 11:54 (hmmm….sorta quick for me)</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Mile 2: 12:20 (ok, that’s more steady)</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Mile 3: 12:15</span></span><br><span style="font-size:medium;"><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';">First water stop was at about 3.5 miles. I had a mini bottle of water in my pocket and used it about every two miles, unless there was a water stop, then I used that. I walk ALL water stops. I can drink and run if I’m using a bottle, but cups….NO WAY! That’s just too much coordination to expect of my brain. My swim coach was at the water stop checking in on me… “feel good,” I said. She was way bundled up, in her red jacket with a hood. Great as a beacon. I’d given her my camera to get some shots of folks we both know.</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Mile 4: 12:20</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Somewhere soon after Mile marker 4, I passed Kick member HRMAY. She was in the lead, and except for a very wet head of hair, looked as if this was a total walk in the park for her. We live close to each other, and have exchanged emails, but haven’t met face to face yet. I shouted introductions as we passed. At about 4.3 miles (according to my inaccurate tracking on gmap-pedometer, the “bike path” started. There are so many ups/downs in a “rolling” configuration that the inexperienced might get seasick. On a day like today… I’m surprised no one did. At the entrance to the path was a MONGO HUGE puddle. The kind that can eat small children. Everyone ran around it in the squishy grass. The direction givers were great about pointing it out to people, too. I guess they didn’t want to have to go swimming to fish people out of it.</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Mile 5: 12:23</span></span><br><span style="font-size:medium;"><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';">Mile 4.3-5.8 is the “out” portion of the bike path. I saw tons of people…ok, I saw everyone. They were going in the other direction. Lots of support from friends, and only a tiny bit of confusion in the areas where there were large amounts of standing water. Lesson 2: The baggy clothes that kept you warm at the start of the race, look really bad, soggy, and cold in the middle of the race. Several people (for some reason, mostly men) had very unhappy looks on their faces. I attribute this to the state of their clothes. I was still feeling ok with my tights on the bottom and my layers with a wind shell on the top. The shell was pretty wet, but it insulated me enough so that as long as I was moving, I was warm enough. At the end of the bike path was the 2nd water stop. One lonely guy, a tent, a table, and the choice between water or Gatorade. I did Gatorade that time (orange, for once). I like orange Gatorade. Looking back, I think this portion of the path was a net downhill. Yes, there were some rolling ups and downs, but in general, I’m pretty sure it was mostly all downhill overall.</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Mile 6: 13:25</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">I say the “out” was downhill, because look at the drop in my pace. Holy crap! I knew I slowed down at this point, but I didn’t realize it was by that much. Climbing….more climbing, and more climbing. I tried to remember to take littler steps and pick up my knees more, and was reasonably successful. I was starting to feel as if I was working at this point, too. My legs were starting to speak to me…. “uh, hello? Yeah, see….we’re cold, and we are thinking it might be nice to back off a bit.” I started to feel cold at points, as well. Not all the time, just every once in awhile. My shoes started talking, too. “Squish, squish, squish……squeeeesh, squish squish.” They’re not as linguistically developed as my legs are, it appears.</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Mile 7: 12:25</span></span><br><span style="font-size:medium;"><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';">I have no idea how that happened. But, I’m grateful. Great volunteers, maybe? There were two people running ahead of me, I could see them on straights, but would lose them around curves. Ahead of them was a friend that I work with who was race-walking. Every once in awhile, I’d start to catch up to them a little bit, was never really close, but then, they’d start running again, and off they’d go. My relative position to them was about the same throughout the race. So, they helped me hang in there when the legs started getting snippy.</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Mile 8: 13:32</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Water was a bit after mile marker 8. My quads, up near where the crease in your leg is…were starting to make themselves known. I’d been having some soreness in them all week, but I attributed it to “experiment day” at the gym with the weights. While I’m running, I’m starting to wonder whether this is an indication of lack of preparation, or residual soreness from a new exercise, or just a crappy day. I see Ann (swim coach) a bit after the water. She’s got my camera out, and I think I might have a pic of me not looking dead. Bless her heart! It was sooo cold and rainy for her.</span></span><br><br><img alt="" src="http://www.auburn.edu/~wolfsa1/images/halfmary/fr2.jpg" style="border:0px solid;"><br>
He's fast.<br><br><img alt="" src="http://www.auburn.edu/~wolfsa1/images/halfmary/swbud2.jpg" style="border:0px solid;"><br>
So's she. She also swims in the mornings, and is a new triathlete.<br><br><img alt="" src="http://www.auburn.edu/~wolfsa1/images/halfmary/st2.jpg" style="border:0px solid;"><br>
I'm not dead looking! My head is "glowy" too. <img alt="smile.gif" src="http://files.kickrunners.com/smilies/smile.gif"><br><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">I also start to plot against my weight trainer lady, cause SHE thinks it’s fun to come up with new things to do that will either make me look foolish (not all that hard, it’s hardly a challenge), or to make it so I email her the next day with various parts of me not wanting to work. Revenge plotting is surprisingly effective in picking up a pace. As I turned the corner for the last leg, headed for the next turnaround, I told the intersection monitor, “that sign needs to say 10!” I had to run past the 9 mile marker, and then come back to it. But, hey, I can do simple math. I know that this means I’m over half way finished. This, is a good thing. I see the two people, and my walking friend on the way down as they’re headed back. The turn around guy (Alan) ran back to the water stop with me… well, ok… he speed walked, I slogged. More importantly, he talked. The hardest part I’ve found about being in the back is that there isn’t anyone to go with you and help with distractions (if that’s what you need). The mid packers have friends that they run with, so they can take turns keeping up the mindless chatter. If this isn’t your thing, you can still go off on your own. But, us last placers….we usually don’t have a choice. On the other hand, we do learn how to run our own events, and learn how to depend on ourselves, rather than others. I guess it’s a give/take.</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Mile 9: 12:49</span></span><br><span style="font-size:medium;"><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';">I’ve now come to terms that I’m going to have to put the quad issue “away” for the remainder of this event. It’s not a “race” for me, as I’m really looking just to finish and be respectable for myself. I think that the weather kept a lot of people who had registered, home. And, I think that some of those people might have been back of the packers. The front of the packers all showed up! I pass Ann again, ‘nother photo op. She says I’ll like that one.</span></span><br><br><img alt="" src="http://www.auburn.edu/~wolfsa1/images/halfmary/st1.jpg" style="border:0px solid;"><br><br><span style="font-size:medium;"><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';">Then she says she’s going home. I can’t really blame her… that’s pretty nice of her to go out and stand in the cold and rain to support folks. 4 of her swimmers were running and she’s done this course before, too. She said she’d leave my camera with someone at the finish.</span></span><br><br><span style="font-size:medium;"><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><img alt="" src="http://www.auburn.edu/~wolfsa1/images/halfmary/fr1.jpg" style="border:0px solid;"></span></span><br><br><img alt="" src="http://www.auburn.edu/~wolfsa1/images/halfmary/swbud1.jpg" style="border:0px solid;"><br><br><br><br><span style="font-size:medium;"><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';">When I saw her the first time, I told her that the tops of my quads were bothering me. On the way back, she said to “keep pushing down with your heels.” Ok, I can do that. I’m not sure why I’m doing that, but I can do that. I’ll ask about that later. Back to the same water stop that was after mile 3, and mile 8. Gatorade again. I didn’t even look before I crossed the street, on the home stretch. I just trusted that the intersection lady would do her job. The temperature really started to drop during mile 9. It feels as if it might be sleeting, but I can’t tell. I can tell that the rain is getting “plinkier” as opposed to “ploppier,” though. My hat is doing a great job of keeping the rain from hitting my face.</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Mile 10: 12:40</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Yay…on the home stretch. No longer do I feel as if I’m running constantly up hill. Still seeing my 3 people ahead of me…. In and out of my sight as curves and hills permit. Consistent sightings of the police. Strangely enough, as well…. Many little brown birds were flying. I don’t know why I noticed them, except they seemed to be going awfully fast for such a wet day.</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Mile 11: 13:54</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Really felt like caca here. I think I start to fall a bit apart. My left pinky toe is starting to form its standard blister on the bottom. I get one there frequently…it’s just what it does. No matter the type of shoe, the size, the distance… I just get a blister there. But, it doesn’t feel as bad as it has felt in the past. One police man was encouraging me through his microphone. I had enough presence of mind to wave and smile so that he knew I wasn’t half dead. I tell ya, when the “man” tells you to keep going, you’re almost there, you’re doing good… you don’t want to stop. He’s got a gun!</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Mile 12: 13:40</span></span><br><span style="font-size:medium;"><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';">I started cussing once I hit mile marker 12. The nice intersection dude (Mike) was there… in his clear plastic poncho, soaking wet gloves, and hood. I told him I was last, and that he could go in. I also told him that I felt like shit. From here to the end, I find that I have to force myself not to get hunched over, and start to collapse in my torso. I feel better when I stand up a bit straighter, so I do as much as possible. Note, “better” doesn’t equal “good,” it’s just better. So, after a bit, I hear him coming up behind me. He’s running to the finish, carrying the cones that marked the way! He’s talking…. Apparently, I’m doing a good job. Honestly, dude….have you looked at my face recently?? He he. I’m still cussing, but he either doesn’t hear it, or recognizes it for what it is. He’s “making” me “finish strong.” Actually, this is working. It’s now SNOWING. But, not pretty snow. It’s snowing snow that’s the consistency of 7-11 slurpies. Yuk.</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Mile 13: 13:22</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Now, I start to see more people, including the ring-leader of the doomed relay team. He’s got his umbrella at the LAST turn to the finish. He’s clapping and cheering… and ignoring my cussing.</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Mile 13.1: 3:08 (that’s off, though, because I didn’t stop my watch when I crossed the finish, I was too busy breathing)</span></span><br><span style="font-size:medium;"><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';">Greg is waving his arm at the finish. Don’t worry….I’m zeroed in on those cones, buddy. Basically, I put my head down and concentrate on not tripping UP the last .1 mile. Ok…. Who’s freakin’ idea was putting the finish at the TOP of a hill? Huh? Cause, that person is going to have WORDS with me. Grrrrrr……. I make it into the chute, and get caught by someone…don’t know who. Since I’ve pushed it, I had started to wheeze. More than just breathing hard, but not a full-on asthma attack. Just really really loud breathing that has a wheeze. This is NORMAL. It doesn’t sound normal, but it is. I know that I have to keep walking/moving, though. This guy wants to stop and take my number. I’ve got both my hands on his forearms, and I’m pushing him to make him let me walk. Finally, I get to where I can lift my shirt to find the number. What I think happened, too, is that others there were worried cause I’d been out there so long. I was pretty cold and cranky, but the gym was 20 yds away, so I was really fine. They kept asking me if I had asthma and did I want/need an inhaler. I kept saying no to the inhaler…cause I could feel the breathing getting easier every 10 seconds that went by. After 90 secs or so, I was back to breathing hard, and continued to get easier. I also made a beeline for my car with my dry clothes, and into the gym. I found my friend Larry with my camera, and did get a pic with his two kids as well.</span></span><br><span style="font-size:medium;"><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';">My time for the finish was: 2:50:12 (but I still need to get the official clock time since I had the “forget to stop the watch” moment). The first time I ran it I did it in 2:36:29. I wore fewer clothes that time.</span> <span style="font-family:Wingdings;"><span style="font-family:Wingdings;">J</span></span></span>
my apologies.<br><br>
Stitch<br>
-------------<br><br><b><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">The EVENT</span></span></b><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Off we all walk, down and around a bit, to the start. WAIT! We’re going the OTHER direction. Sheesh. So, everyone turns around…I find the back (I like the back…the back is my friend), and as soon as I’m set, got the watch on “chrono” off we go. We do a little box shaped thing in the parking lot, and we end up on the “rolling hills” of the local roads. One of the Sat. morning runners commented that I seemed to be starting fast for me…and as soon as she said that, I realized it and relaxed a bit. I didn’t try to slow down, just tried to relax. The first part of this course is also the same course as our Summer 5K series used to be, so I’m fairly familiar with the road. It’s also the same as the “Tough 10/Tough 2” race that we have every year. The police support for the race was EXCELLENT. There were at least 2 different patrol cars (I’m not sure if there were more) that were constantly driving the course with their flashy lights on. I know that their presence made the drivers a bit more careful when they were on the course. It’s not a closed course, so everyone has to be more alert, but there is a bike lane the whole way, so runners have a place to go when there are oncoming cars. Only 1 driver was a ******* “stupid head” as he exited his neighborhood and turned onto the course. I’m certainly impressed at how he was able to make his tires spin….NOT!</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Yeah, it’s cold, but not too bad. It’s raining, but not too bad. I feel pretty good through the first 4 miles or so. I was able to stay relaxed, held my breathing together pretty well, and felt as if I had managed to settle in to a steady pace, though not what you’d call “quick.” The biggest challenge was making sure that I didn’t splash through any standing or flowing water. I knew my shoes were going to get wet, soaked even, but I didn’t want to make it EASY for Mother Nature to do it.</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Mile 1: 11:54 (hmmm….sorta quick for me)</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Mile 2: 12:20 (ok, that’s more steady)</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Mile 3: 12:15</span></span><br><span style="font-size:medium;"><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';">First water stop was at about 3.5 miles. I had a mini bottle of water in my pocket and used it about every two miles, unless there was a water stop, then I used that. I walk ALL water stops. I can drink and run if I’m using a bottle, but cups….NO WAY! That’s just too much coordination to expect of my brain. My swim coach was at the water stop checking in on me… “feel good,” I said. She was way bundled up, in her red jacket with a hood. Great as a beacon. I’d given her my camera to get some shots of folks we both know.</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Mile 4: 12:20</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Somewhere soon after Mile marker 4, I passed Kick member HRMAY. She was in the lead, and except for a very wet head of hair, looked as if this was a total walk in the park for her. We live close to each other, and have exchanged emails, but haven’t met face to face yet. I shouted introductions as we passed. At about 4.3 miles (according to my inaccurate tracking on gmap-pedometer, the “bike path” started. There are so many ups/downs in a “rolling” configuration that the inexperienced might get seasick. On a day like today… I’m surprised no one did. At the entrance to the path was a MONGO HUGE puddle. The kind that can eat small children. Everyone ran around it in the squishy grass. The direction givers were great about pointing it out to people, too. I guess they didn’t want to have to go swimming to fish people out of it.</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Mile 5: 12:23</span></span><br><span style="font-size:medium;"><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';">Mile 4.3-5.8 is the “out” portion of the bike path. I saw tons of people…ok, I saw everyone. They were going in the other direction. Lots of support from friends, and only a tiny bit of confusion in the areas where there were large amounts of standing water. Lesson 2: The baggy clothes that kept you warm at the start of the race, look really bad, soggy, and cold in the middle of the race. Several people (for some reason, mostly men) had very unhappy looks on their faces. I attribute this to the state of their clothes. I was still feeling ok with my tights on the bottom and my layers with a wind shell on the top. The shell was pretty wet, but it insulated me enough so that as long as I was moving, I was warm enough. At the end of the bike path was the 2nd water stop. One lonely guy, a tent, a table, and the choice between water or Gatorade. I did Gatorade that time (orange, for once). I like orange Gatorade. Looking back, I think this portion of the path was a net downhill. Yes, there were some rolling ups and downs, but in general, I’m pretty sure it was mostly all downhill overall.</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Mile 6: 13:25</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">I say the “out” was downhill, because look at the drop in my pace. Holy crap! I knew I slowed down at this point, but I didn’t realize it was by that much. Climbing….more climbing, and more climbing. I tried to remember to take littler steps and pick up my knees more, and was reasonably successful. I was starting to feel as if I was working at this point, too. My legs were starting to speak to me…. “uh, hello? Yeah, see….we’re cold, and we are thinking it might be nice to back off a bit.” I started to feel cold at points, as well. Not all the time, just every once in awhile. My shoes started talking, too. “Squish, squish, squish……squeeeesh, squish squish.” They’re not as linguistically developed as my legs are, it appears.</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Mile 7: 12:25</span></span><br><span style="font-size:medium;"><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';">I have no idea how that happened. But, I’m grateful. Great volunteers, maybe? There were two people running ahead of me, I could see them on straights, but would lose them around curves. Ahead of them was a friend that I work with who was race-walking. Every once in awhile, I’d start to catch up to them a little bit, was never really close, but then, they’d start running again, and off they’d go. My relative position to them was about the same throughout the race. So, they helped me hang in there when the legs started getting snippy.</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Mile 8: 13:32</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Water was a bit after mile marker 8. My quads, up near where the crease in your leg is…were starting to make themselves known. I’d been having some soreness in them all week, but I attributed it to “experiment day” at the gym with the weights. While I’m running, I’m starting to wonder whether this is an indication of lack of preparation, or residual soreness from a new exercise, or just a crappy day. I see Ann (swim coach) a bit after the water. She’s got my camera out, and I think I might have a pic of me not looking dead. Bless her heart! It was sooo cold and rainy for her.</span></span><br><br><img alt="" src="http://www.auburn.edu/~wolfsa1/images/halfmary/fr2.jpg" style="border:0px solid;"><br>
He's fast.<br><br><img alt="" src="http://www.auburn.edu/~wolfsa1/images/halfmary/swbud2.jpg" style="border:0px solid;"><br>
So's she. She also swims in the mornings, and is a new triathlete.<br><br><img alt="" src="http://www.auburn.edu/~wolfsa1/images/halfmary/st2.jpg" style="border:0px solid;"><br>
I'm not dead looking! My head is "glowy" too. <img alt="smile.gif" src="http://files.kickrunners.com/smilies/smile.gif"><br><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">I also start to plot against my weight trainer lady, cause SHE thinks it’s fun to come up with new things to do that will either make me look foolish (not all that hard, it’s hardly a challenge), or to make it so I email her the next day with various parts of me not wanting to work. Revenge plotting is surprisingly effective in picking up a pace. As I turned the corner for the last leg, headed for the next turnaround, I told the intersection monitor, “that sign needs to say 10!” I had to run past the 9 mile marker, and then come back to it. But, hey, I can do simple math. I know that this means I’m over half way finished. This, is a good thing. I see the two people, and my walking friend on the way down as they’re headed back. The turn around guy (Alan) ran back to the water stop with me… well, ok… he speed walked, I slogged. More importantly, he talked. The hardest part I’ve found about being in the back is that there isn’t anyone to go with you and help with distractions (if that’s what you need). The mid packers have friends that they run with, so they can take turns keeping up the mindless chatter. If this isn’t your thing, you can still go off on your own. But, us last placers….we usually don’t have a choice. On the other hand, we do learn how to run our own events, and learn how to depend on ourselves, rather than others. I guess it’s a give/take.</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Mile 9: 12:49</span></span><br><span style="font-size:medium;"><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';">I’ve now come to terms that I’m going to have to put the quad issue “away” for the remainder of this event. It’s not a “race” for me, as I’m really looking just to finish and be respectable for myself. I think that the weather kept a lot of people who had registered, home. And, I think that some of those people might have been back of the packers. The front of the packers all showed up! I pass Ann again, ‘nother photo op. She says I’ll like that one.</span></span><br><br><img alt="" src="http://www.auburn.edu/~wolfsa1/images/halfmary/st1.jpg" style="border:0px solid;"><br><br><span style="font-size:medium;"><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';">Then she says she’s going home. I can’t really blame her… that’s pretty nice of her to go out and stand in the cold and rain to support folks. 4 of her swimmers were running and she’s done this course before, too. She said she’d leave my camera with someone at the finish.</span></span><br><br><span style="font-size:medium;"><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><img alt="" src="http://www.auburn.edu/~wolfsa1/images/halfmary/fr1.jpg" style="border:0px solid;"></span></span><br><br><img alt="" src="http://www.auburn.edu/~wolfsa1/images/halfmary/swbud1.jpg" style="border:0px solid;"><br><br><br><br><span style="font-size:medium;"><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';">When I saw her the first time, I told her that the tops of my quads were bothering me. On the way back, she said to “keep pushing down with your heels.” Ok, I can do that. I’m not sure why I’m doing that, but I can do that. I’ll ask about that later. Back to the same water stop that was after mile 3, and mile 8. Gatorade again. I didn’t even look before I crossed the street, on the home stretch. I just trusted that the intersection lady would do her job. The temperature really started to drop during mile 9. It feels as if it might be sleeting, but I can’t tell. I can tell that the rain is getting “plinkier” as opposed to “ploppier,” though. My hat is doing a great job of keeping the rain from hitting my face.</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Mile 10: 12:40</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Yay…on the home stretch. No longer do I feel as if I’m running constantly up hill. Still seeing my 3 people ahead of me…. In and out of my sight as curves and hills permit. Consistent sightings of the police. Strangely enough, as well…. Many little brown birds were flying. I don’t know why I noticed them, except they seemed to be going awfully fast for such a wet day.</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Mile 11: 13:54</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Really felt like caca here. I think I start to fall a bit apart. My left pinky toe is starting to form its standard blister on the bottom. I get one there frequently…it’s just what it does. No matter the type of shoe, the size, the distance… I just get a blister there. But, it doesn’t feel as bad as it has felt in the past. One police man was encouraging me through his microphone. I had enough presence of mind to wave and smile so that he knew I wasn’t half dead. I tell ya, when the “man” tells you to keep going, you’re almost there, you’re doing good… you don’t want to stop. He’s got a gun!</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Mile 12: 13:40</span></span><br><span style="font-size:medium;"><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';">I started cussing once I hit mile marker 12. The nice intersection dude (Mike) was there… in his clear plastic poncho, soaking wet gloves, and hood. I told him I was last, and that he could go in. I also told him that I felt like shit. From here to the end, I find that I have to force myself not to get hunched over, and start to collapse in my torso. I feel better when I stand up a bit straighter, so I do as much as possible. Note, “better” doesn’t equal “good,” it’s just better. So, after a bit, I hear him coming up behind me. He’s running to the finish, carrying the cones that marked the way! He’s talking…. Apparently, I’m doing a good job. Honestly, dude….have you looked at my face recently?? He he. I’m still cussing, but he either doesn’t hear it, or recognizes it for what it is. He’s “making” me “finish strong.” Actually, this is working. It’s now SNOWING. But, not pretty snow. It’s snowing snow that’s the consistency of 7-11 slurpies. Yuk.</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Mile 13: 13:22</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Now, I start to see more people, including the ring-leader of the doomed relay team. He’s got his umbrella at the LAST turn to the finish. He’s clapping and cheering… and ignoring my cussing.</span></span><br><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';"><span style="font-size:medium;">Mile 13.1: 3:08 (that’s off, though, because I didn’t stop my watch when I crossed the finish, I was too busy breathing)</span></span><br><span style="font-size:medium;"><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';">Greg is waving his arm at the finish. Don’t worry….I’m zeroed in on those cones, buddy. Basically, I put my head down and concentrate on not tripping UP the last .1 mile. Ok…. Who’s freakin’ idea was putting the finish at the TOP of a hill? Huh? Cause, that person is going to have WORDS with me. Grrrrrr……. I make it into the chute, and get caught by someone…don’t know who. Since I’ve pushed it, I had started to wheeze. More than just breathing hard, but not a full-on asthma attack. Just really really loud breathing that has a wheeze. This is NORMAL. It doesn’t sound normal, but it is. I know that I have to keep walking/moving, though. This guy wants to stop and take my number. I’ve got both my hands on his forearms, and I’m pushing him to make him let me walk. Finally, I get to where I can lift my shirt to find the number. What I think happened, too, is that others there were worried cause I’d been out there so long. I was pretty cold and cranky, but the gym was 20 yds away, so I was really fine. They kept asking me if I had asthma and did I want/need an inhaler. I kept saying no to the inhaler…cause I could feel the breathing getting easier every 10 seconds that went by. After 90 secs or so, I was back to breathing hard, and continued to get easier. I also made a beeline for my car with my dry clothes, and into the gym. I found my friend Larry with my camera, and did get a pic with his two kids as well.</span></span><br><span style="font-size:medium;"><span style="font-family:'Bookman Old Style';">My time for the finish was: 2:50:12 (but I still need to get the official clock time since I had the “forget to stop the watch” moment). The first time I ran it I did it in 2:36:29. I wore fewer clothes that time.</span> <span style="font-family:Wingdings;"><span style="font-family:Wingdings;">J</span></span></span>