the (half) marathon is coming

One week from Saturday we’ll be huffing and puffing it 13.1 miles…elevation: outer space compared to our may-as-well-be-at-sea-level location.  Our training is…ahem…going well.  We managed to run six miles (AT sea level, no less) in Savannah last weekend…we did much better with the whole training thing early on…it seems we fall off the wagon right before the race… which is when you would think one would be the most focused.  Tim’s mindset is: I can run 11.5 miles a few weeks before then I’m good.  I know he’ll want to beat our last half marathon time of around 2 hours, 25 minutes (or around a s-l-o-w , leisurely11 minutes 30 seconds per mile).

We’ll see.  The last half marathon we ran was local so our lungs actually had enough oxygen to sustain our bodily functions…like supply oxygen.

Life is unfortunately “happening” right now which has caused training take a backseat.  I almost wanted to write a “Dear Blog, I miss you” post because even the blog has gone to the wayside the last few days.  I wanted to post yesterday…but my brain was so fried after being at work for 14 hours that I could barely string a sentence together.  I decided to save you the agony.  You’re welcome. 

I digress.

This is our marathon route.  We’re the purple line (which kinda melts into the blue line…).  We start at 7:00 am and have until 1:00 pm to finish before they open the streets up to cars.  If we don’t finish by 1:00 pm…we probably won’t be finishing and someone may need to come and scrape us up off the course.

We’ll finish.  If there is one thing Tim and I share so closely in common it is our dogged determination.

We’ve mistaken the end location of an eight mile run on a paved trail and had to walk every single one of those eight miles back without any food or water in the middle of the summer.  Every time someone on a bike passed us we wanted to get on our hands and knees and beg them to let us ride on the handlebars.  A (smart) runner left various mini Gatorade bottles and bags of  sliced oranges along the route.  I don’t know how many times Tim and I spotted one and wanted to take a tiny sip or take just one slice of that orange.  ANYTHING for liquid.  I almost subverted to drinking from standing water.  When we finally reached the car, we were mostly crawling, speaking in tongues and watching little green men riding seahorses parade across the horizon. 

But we made it.

We’ve misread a map while hiking and ended up walking through the woods for five hours…we had water but we had no idea where we were going.  We had a pretty good idea of where we were going when we started but either we got turned around or we turned the map around.  I just kept telling Tim, “all roads lead to somewhere.”  The faithful roads did – right before it got dark and we lost all hope.  At that point, our delirum had us measuring things in kabobs.  Like… we figured it would be about ten bazillion kabobs to the moon and a cat’s tail is about one kabob.  Perfect measuring stick, really.  We may have been on to something there.

Seems like we get into trouble whenever maps or directions are involved.  No matter how much we plan…the map was upside-down or the wrong one or we just didn’t look at it and tried to go at it alone.  Now, whenever we ARE lost we just say “all roads lead to somewhere” because they do – it just may not be the somewhere you were expecting…and it may take you quite a long time to get to your destination…

Thankfully, there will be helpers and signs and other people running with us during the half marathon.  So if we get lost and we end up out in the middle of a field with no roads or civilization for miles…its our own damn fault.  Save a personal guide through the race course, I think the race organizers have done all they can to avoid such a situation.

Oh, wait, they do have guides.  They’re called pacers.

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