I tapered, carbed (this is a verb in my own vocabulary) and hydrated like my life depended on it - all in preparation for this June 26th German Half Marathon and still I could not shake the butterflies or the feeling that I really hadn't read the fine print. I went into this blind - without even a glance at the course and a first-timer to the race site (Pennypack Park).
It wasn't a crowded start; in fact, almost immediately it was wide open and quiet, shaded with cool breezes coming up off of the creek running along the path. The marathoners hung back, the half-er's ran ahead and I was somewhere in the middle. The course fell out in front of me like a new hike marked by those obnoxious colored markers that turns you around and pushes you up to the point of near-anger (but still you keep going).
There were steep inclines, amazing declines, rarely 100 yards of flat at a time and more trail than I'd bargained for when I clicked the "Register" button after reading about this race on Runnersworld.com
This was a challenge that the butterflies were warning me about. Every incline on the trail took all of my focus just to reach the top - like a client just reminded me - in vietnam you had to focus on making it through the day...if you did that, then you thought about "tomorrow." This race quickly became my 'nam. Nothing got attention - not a turn, up, down or trail - until it was literally under my feet. Running a race this way isn't exactly ideal - because strategy gets thrown out the window - but it does serve a purpose. A mental purpose. When you're slower, beat up and wondering "if" you'll finish in one piece, as opposed to "when," it becomes all mind over anything else.
And when you finally cross the finish line with familiar faces waiting for you, shouting your name, you will get chills, just as I did, because it's over, you made it and you'll live to fight another day. Oh and there are sausages and beer waiting for you - that's a plus too.
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