On the heels of the Broad Street Run, this late-May hilly half is a flawless transition into the Summer/Fall Marathon season. This was my second time running this early morning half marathon that is light in its costumes and face paint and serious in the athletes it draws and the course it lays out beneath their feet.
This event struck me - from the Tough Mudders, orange identification headbands blazing, I met in the Porta Potty line to the water stations manned by the "Students Run Philly Style" kids and all of the bands and bullhorns in between- as a truly grass roots Philadelphia runner's event. The streets were lined with volunteers at every turn and never was there a silence left unfilled by cheers and water balloons crashing down. As I ran, at the back of the pack because of my miscalculation of the porta potty lines, I focused on breaking through, alone and without an iPod.
This was my test and my gift to myself. Never before had I come from behind in such an obvious way. Never before had I run this far alone, without an iPod or distraction from myself. Never before had I run toward a finish line where no one stood waiting.
As the internal whining (read: bitching/moaning/screaming) calmed itself at Miles 8-9, I turned against the tide and doubled back against fellow runners until something caught my eye: the girl I never beat in a single Fun Run down the shore - my love and my nemesis; my first friend and the only person I still harbored such complete jealousy for; the girl that never lost (to me) until this race - I had her by 31 minutes.
I wish I could say I'm ashamed of the way I smiled when I realized at Mile 13 that she was no where in sight and I had a Personal Best on the Horizon - but I'm not. Twelve years later, I proved to myself - as ridiculous as it may sound - that I am a fierce athlete. She had to lose for me to win. And one hour and forty five minutes after I began, I crossed the finish line with a new personal best and a new found ability to be alone with myself for 13.1 miles.
This race was the culmination of a beautifully tragic competition I had with myself. As I walked through the fairgrounds that lead up to the Please Touch Museum, I told myself, "This ends here" and I finally meant it.
So thank you, Oddyssey Half Marathon, for your beautiful course, hospitality, and unwavering support during a race I won't soon forget.
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