Posing

When they gave me "elite" status for getting second last year in the Little Rock half marathon, I should've declined. Apparently nobody knew about this race last year, and they were particularly unaware of the large prize purse. "Large," to me is, well, any prize purse. Since I couldn't turn down a free entry to a race I was already going to do, I accepted and entered again. The big E after my number gave me access to the Perks Tent, where the elite racers and those who like to pay for long bathroom lines and "free" cokes went. I forgot to put one of the wristbands on in the morning, so upon entrance I asked if my number, 2013E, would get me in. The woman looked at me with a bewildered expression and said, "YOU'RE elite?" Was it the confused look on my face? The absence of a coach and escort? I KNOW I've gained weight over the winter... the XL saddlebags? Anyway, thanks. I was already feeling like I didn't belong.

I was supposed to start off slowly, at a 7:10 pace for the first 3 miles. It seemed like forever before the first mile mark, and before looking at my watch I thought, hmmmm, I've probably gone out too fast given my labored breathing and RPE. Nope! I was almost right on: 7:14. The same thing happened for miles 2 and 3. Miles 3-12 were mostly a long, drawn-out blur of pain. I would say it was all downhill from there, but there were in fact some nice uphills and false flats. There were a few bright spots along the way. I had a nice chat with a champion masters runner who'd done an ultra 2 weeks ago. A couple of other men ran with me for a while and worked on a business deal between miles 8 and 9. I should've just given up around 10 when the guy with plaid boxers and a basketball jersey passed me going up the hill. I would've if I hadn't passed him back on the next flat. Coming up on 12 miles, I could make out the figure of a female in front of me. I was actually gaining on her. With 3/4 mile to go, I made my move. I felt like I was running at 400m pace; the problem was that I had 3 of those to go. I passed her easily, but soon after realized my vision was blurring and I wasn't running straight. A few yards later, she fluidly overtook me for 11th place female. A PW for the last 5 years or so, but hey, who's counting?

After crossing the finish line, it was I, not she, who was greeted by the elite coordinator and escorted in my clothespinned mylar blanket to the Perks Tent, where a massage therapist was waiting on me. With the massage and recovery pizza I said farewell to my elite status and limped back to the car.