brace yourself...
Guys. I wogged the Portland Half-Marathon. (That is a cross between a walk and a jog. Kinda like brunch.) Are you ready for my ranking? Get ready...
I came in....
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...........................2,017th PLACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It was so close. I really almost made it in the top 2,000. Sigh. Damn you, elbow. I finished in 3 hours, 15 minutes and 22 seconds. As this is my first race, I am proud to say that is my Personal Record.
Jokes aside, I am fiercely proud of my time for the following reasons:
1. I did not come in last. (That seriously happened in a cross country race in middle school. Seriously.)
2. I broke my effing elbow two weeks ago. WTF.
3. Portland is so cold after you've lived in LA for a while. Like, Arctic Circle cold. Like I thought I might die from exposure before the race even started cold.
4. I went to bed way too late and got only four hours of sleep because I was hanging out with my super rad friends Andy and Brit and Eric.
5. It totally rained and a Jesus band was playing for part of the race and it's hard to pull up running tights in a porta potty and you try keeping a 15-minute mile pace with a robot arm and a bruised rib for 13.1 miles BUT I DID IT.
As I may have mentioned, this was my first race (okay, I spilled the beans about middle school cross country just now, but I don't count that because I have successfully blocked almost all memories from my mind and it was in sixth grade.) That being said, I thought I knew what to expect. And I suppose I did. But the reality of it was insane. That race was one of the most positive and inspiring things I have ever had the privilege to witness. For reals. Over 10,000 people came together in downtown Portland, and every single one of them was filled with hope and support and love for the whole human race. I think I smiled for 13.1 miles.
There were old ladies wearing matching outfits, and serious athletes breaking their own PRs, and people walking their 40th marathon, and people running their first...it was unreal. But the craziest part to me was the sheer number of volunteers and cheerleaders. People handing me water and some disgusting drink called Ultima (sorry, Ultima...you are gross), and gummy bears. And kids holding signs saying 'Run, Mommy, run!' People who took the time to look at the name on my bib and yell personalized encouragement at a ridiculous hour of the morning, in the rain.
And throughout the entire 3 hours, 15 minutes and 22 seconds, I just kept thinking "This is the healthiest thing I have done in my life." Physically and emotionally, it just felt good. I crossed the finish line, and the announcer said my name, and I turned around to snap a picture of Erin crossing too:
I would have gotten a picture of Jon too (you know, the one who was supposed to post on this blog but skipped most of his training schedule), but he kicked our asses and finished way before us. Show off. Then it was off through the press of people to collect our medals and finisher shirts, not to mention stopping at every free food table for an entire city block. YES. I ate string cheese and donut holes and candy bars and fritos and bean dip. It was amazing. I would wog 13.1 miles again just to gorge myself afterwards.But the best part was, simply, we did it. (Start singing the Dora the Explorer song right now. Do it. Follow it with the map song. Then realize that having children has made you the most hilarious awesome loser/winner in the world. You know who you are.)
We put one foot in front of the other for 13.1 miles. And now I'm ready for more. The LA Marathon is March 18th...who's with me?


