I got dressed.
In shorts, like an idior.
And extra egg and veggies.
And headed out with my water bottle and my banana. I also prepped a protein shake for immediately afterwards (window of gainz) and then promptly forgot about it.
I'll drink it tomorrow.
I talked to some friends at the start, which was nice. The standing around waiting to start is the worst part. This was my first half at Fox Cities, and I liked the course a lot. They've apparently changed it considerably for this year (the 25th running) and it was thoroughfare, lots of neighborhoods and parks, and a significant amount of bike path. I enjoyed the scenery and the general flatness. A lot of times I find pancake flat courses painful because they are often full of deadly straightaways and devoid of shade, but this one had lots of turns and trees. Lovely.
My only goal was to finish. I took it waaaaaay easy, trying not to breath hard or sweat. It was nice and cool, so I cruised the first few miles at 10:45s. In fact I was sub-11 until about the 5 mile mark when I decided to dial back a bit. I didn't walk at all (except to drink, I can't master drinking while running) until around mile 9 and that was mostly because I ate some chews and had an associated headphone malfunction (read: I tore the damn things straight out of my phone and had to reassemble my armband). I felt pretty fucking great until about mile 11.5 when the shade sort of disappeared.
At mile 12 a teenage volunteer told me I was the hottest runner he'd seen in like 10 minutes. I may have snorted. Hot.
At the finish a guy I'd passed a mile back tried to stage a comeback. I started kicking and smoked him. I win, motherfucker. My final time was two hours and thirty odd minutes, which is what I projected. If I'd had a little more gumption in the last 2 miles I could've gone sub-2:30, but for what?
Afterwards I basically just rocketed through the finish area and onto a shuttle. I had to get home to pay the sitter so she could go to her job job. This is the story of my racing life. I'm sure there are people who hang out after races, but I pretty much never get to. I did have a "burp or barf" moment on the bus. It was a burp, praise cheeses.
When I walked in the door, the first thing my kids wanted to know? What's for lunch. Assholes.
Mascara firmly in place, bitches.
I had a sausage. Well, half of one.
I wanted to eat more, but I was tired and shit.
Then I was cold. So I had a maple almond milk latte. After the race I would've killed a man for a mochalattefrappawhoozitz. This was my compromise.
In my judgy mug. Extra mile my ass.
I'd promised the kids breakfast for dinner, so they had leftover pancakes, bacon and eggs, strawberries, and cinnamon rolls. I really, really wanted a cinnamon roll. Really, really wanted. But I didn't eat one, because that's how you start a sneaky hate spiral of eating. Not worth it. I ate bacon instead.
Bacon makes it all okay.
I did have a glass of wine, and at one point ate Sunbutter from the jar, but I don't want to talk about, OKAY?
My son wanted to know if we were going to take the dog for a walk. Ummm...no. So I just sat in my chair, drank my wine slowly, watched the football game, and worked furiously on my busyhands project. Then I went to bed and slept like a corpse.
Pretty good day overall.