I set out on a mission a few short months ago, and I'm happy to say that I lived through the 1/2 Marathon! I remember when my friend Jackie asked me to run in it with her. She kind of tricked me into it - building my confidence up saying it really was an attainable goal - but I've always wanted to run the race down the strip, so it was a good goal for me.
I mentioned it to my Mom and asked if she wanted to walk it, and my Dad jumped on the opportunity to join in. He's always loved to run, so this was something he would be good at.
In those six months I ran another 5K, and 10K to prepare, but nothing would come close to the run on December 5th.
The race day approached, and my Dad got injured. He was afraid he couldn't race with me, but he said he'd still come out and support me. I didn't realize how bad his injury was, but somehow he slowly started training again, and he wasn't sure if he could do it on race day. A few days before the race my Dad came into town and he just kept grimacing when he saw the strip.
"Ugh," he would sigh, "This is so stupid, can't believe we're doing this! What a horrible view!" Inside I was feeling the same way. (We would have to run from the Mandalay bay to Freemont Street - the old strip - and back. So basically the entire strip and back.)
Race day finally arrived, and nerves were getting to us all. It didn't help that we were in Corral 30, which didn't start until 45 minutes after the race began! We waited in anticipation and our feet began to ache from standing so long. When we finally approached the starting gate, we were really pumped clapping to The Blues Brothers on a stage set above us.
We saw the countdown "5...4...3...2...1 - GO!" That was so exciting. There's something about running a race with over 30,000 people in it! Ok - well - it was crammed. Within a minute I found myself being pulled between Jackie trying to break through the crowd, and my Dad, who wanted to pace himself. I told Jackie we would run the race together. So I tried to keep up, and soon I lost my Dad behind me. I knew that he didn't want to be pressured because of his injury, so I just figured it was for the best. My Dad wouldn't want to push his way through the crowd anyway.
The first 5K flew by! I saw my family cheering for me as we approached the MGM bridge. They were holding a bright yellow banner that said, "KEEP GOING!" We started out at a 10 and 1/2 minute mile pace! So we were doing well. We decided not to stop at the first and second drink stations, and after our 10K we finally took our first break. I tried my first GU (tasted like vanilla icing), and drank a Gatorade-like yellow drink.
We were back off in seconds. Right around mile 7, when we realized the turnaround was a 2 mile block, pain started to set in. My joints - knees and ankles - began to ache. We stopped again at the 9 mile station and GU'd and Gatoraded. We were off again. Right around the 10 mile mark I began to hit a wall. Ugh...how long would this take!!!??? We stopped at the next drink station again. I told Jackie it would be our last stop.
Jackie always pushed herself at the end, and I didn't want to hold her back, so I really started pushing it. Jackie re-assured me that the last mile we would be so excited that we would feel much better about finishing and gain some energy back. Once we hit that last tenth of a mile I was really hurting. I turned to Jackie, and she promptly said "I LIED!"
We actually ended up doing the last 5K at a faster pace, since I really pushed it for Jackie's sake.
Overall we got a time of 2 hours 25 minutes and 44 seconds. I was really proud to finish that race, and feel like I accomplished my goal.
My dad finished in 2 hours and 44 minutes, with no injury problems.
I was sore until today, but the pain was worth it in the end. I did it.
As I drove my Dad back to the airport to fly home, he took one last look at the strip, and said, "Wow, isn't that's a beautiful view!"
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