Monday, May 4, 2009

whiskey row marathon

"hope you brought a prayer book"
something you wouldn't mind hearing on your way to church but definitely not as the welcome to a registration table the night before a long race.
but man, that realistic nega-torr was right.
saturday morning was my first half marathon since i had ade and can i just say, it was the most challenging morning i'd relive in a second.
maybe it was because i was insecure about the shape i was in.
or maybe it was the fear of having 8 months of baby fatigue hitting me on the 9th mile and making me want to quit.
OR maybe it was because i chose to make my "comeback" on the most difficult marathon course ever invented in the UNIVERSE. (refer to charts below)

the whiskey row marathon, in the pine tree sprinkled hills of prescott arizona, is the MOTHER of all races and every step of that course was more humbling than a review of prom dresses from the past. however- this was the most enjoyable adventure of my non impressive 4 year amateur distance running career.

from the quaint expo held in a early 1900's hotel with layers of paint coating the boneriffic tin ceiling to the miles of course winding through the old town and up into the mountains dotted with gorgeous cabins that make you dream of woodsy decor like spray painted antlers or thick downy duvets- this race is one that should be scribbled onto every one's bucket list.

being my first big event in a long while, i took a very unHeatherly approach to the race and decided to not worry about my time/pace/training/sleeping/eating regiment. and by hell, it totally paid off. i had a lot of firsts during this race:
-i didn't clock my miles
-i ate taco bell the day before
-i wore a fuel belt
-i called brandon at the half way mark
-i didn't care what people thought of me on the phone
-i cried at the view
-i walked when the hills got to steep
-i didn't pee in public
-i allowed myself to daydream
-i cried again when i crossed the finish line
-i drank out of a water bottle i found in the trash
-i didn't want to die afterwards

however, i did allow myself to cuss. cussing makes everything better sometimes. like "oh great, another ficking hill". "if that fat fick passes me again i'm going to scream". "fick, my legs hurt from all the hills". vulgar? yes. but if you replace the i (I) with u (you)- you'd ficking understand.

so there. let's call it a comeback because i haven't been here for years. the legs are sturdy, the lungs are healthy and the determination in back on FIH-YER!
and now for some photos:

Here's backseat Uncle Dave. He's the one that entertains the children and thinks running 3 marathons in 4 months is totally normal.
Brandon is turning into his dad. Don't tell him I said that unless you feel it would be taken as a complement. Some may think there's nothing weird about eating 4 bowls of salad and taking your entree home to have for breakfast in the morn. ?
Carb loading for the race with a side dish of little brother farts.
because i was not invited, i was not able to blog about brooks going on his first manly camping trip with dad and the men from church. i'm pretty sure he had a good time despite dehydration, exhaustion and the 6 inch gouge down the side of his face. boys are gross.

this is our neighbor owen. he's awesome. brooks and owen spend every night in the front driveway fighting over toys and screaming at each other. because they're friends.

love you too.


Lucrecia said...

Nice job Heather! I am not cut out for marathons but I love watching the finish lines. You look totally gorg-EOUS in that last picture!

libbie said...

oh man . . . . i envy you. i am dying to run, but my ficking knee is all ficked up. no joke. i gotta get to the dr. cause i got a halfer coming up in sept that is screaming my name. good job!

Carolyn said...

i love the way that when you finally make a post its always like three feet long down my computer screen.

Whiskey Row, huh?...look at you go! I need to get back into the saddle. i'm down to a half a pair of jeans that fit without giving me a cametoe.

Good job sister.