After a fairly successful rookie season on the local running circuit, the requisite sophomore slump reared its head. It started with an unusually warm autumn and busy work schedule, allowing me plenty of opportunities to rationalize skipping this run and the next one. Before long, the awaited death match between my baby sister and myself was looming.
I went into full desperation mode. Training started with a 3.1 mile run one late night, with no time. No problem. I tried to squeeze in another 3 miler a few days later, and felt terrible afterward. Next was a 7.5 mile jaunt, originally intended for 9, cut short for intense chaffing. Fatigue never came into play and I was gaining some confidence, but the half marathon was only six days away.
With no more training, I rested up for the big race.
The race would be near Lubbock on a Saturday morning, I would leave Ft. Worth on Friday night. . . what could go wrong? Around four in the afternoon I started toward my sister's house in Lubbock, I watched the sublime scenery fly by for hour upon hour, driving directly into the setting sun. Highlights: a sign for Stink Creek, hundreds of wind collectors, a couple of road victimized deer, and a shooting star. Perhaps luck would be with me.
Late Friday night, I finally arrived, made some small talk with my hosts, and got to bed. I slept fairly well, despite the motorcycle show going on outside my window. Morning arrived and with an improvised breakfast and a quick shower we were off to the races. Waiting for an event to start is always an awkward time for me, too much time to feel uncomfortable, think about the race, just no good. When it finally did start I felt great. I left my sis in the dust. Headed out for the puny little hills, I was sure there were less than ten runners ahead of me, I passed two on the first hill, on the way to the next hill one of them passed me. What should I make of this? First lap was complete somewhere around 46 minutes, and I still felt all right. The first hill was just ahead, and I was feeling the lag as I started up. I decided to conserve energy and walk this one. A few people jogged by, then I heard the ragged labored breathing from behind, no way, how could she be so close? It was her. My baby sis was cruising by me on the climb, I acted cool and stuck with my walk to the top. On the backside, I hit my patented descent dash, passing everyone that had passed me on the climb, and carried the momentum as far as I could. That wasn't far enough, I could hear women conversing behind me. My drive was weakening. Around mile 10 they started passing me again, when Amanda pulled along side I tried to hang with her, then decided to just keep her in sight, eventually this too proved more than I could manage. I had put so much mental energy into holding her off in the last couple of miles that I had neglected to eat my PowerBar gel. I dropped into a walk for the second time, retrieved the gel and drained it, I walked toward the nearest roadside trashcan, unloaded the wrapper and picked myself up for the final mile and a half.
There wasn't much to be salvaged at this point, I wouldn't be beating all of the women, I wouldn't be beating my sister, I spotted a truck near the finish line and raced it up the final hill, I lost that one, too.
The finish line was reached at 1 hour, 48 minutes, 16 seconds, approximately two and a half minutes after Amanda. . . The bright side, I got second in my age group.
Just two weeks later, I made the decision to race another half, in Ft. Worth this time. Only problem, I decided about six hours before race time, at two in the morning, after two games, and one long practice session, of ice hockey (my first love) but I wouldn't let it get me down, I thought.
Well, I finished the race only two minutes faster than two weeks prior, my sister still had me beat. . . I got first in my group this time, at least. I need more than shooting stars, I guess. A commitment to my training would do me well.
Next up, A 5K in nearby Arlington against my sister, again. Who knows?
