My 12 Miles

Next weekend is a ½ marathon here in Dallas. A ½ marathon that I so eagerly signed up for MONTHS ago. I sit here now and wonder what I was thinking when I decided to race in the middle of December at 0-dark-thirty in the morning. I can say with some amount of certainty that I was either drunk or just not thinking at all.

We went on our last long run before the race this past weekend. My husband and I went around 3:00 when the boys were sleeping so that we wouldn’t have to drag them along in the cold. It is nice having teenagers at home. So, so nice. At 3:00 it is usually fairly warm. Not on Sunday. It was windy, and cold. There was sun, however it was slacking and not providing a damn bit of heat. So, we started out bundled in sweatshirts/jackets/gloves/hats. We were wearing shorts thinking (optimistically) that it would warm up a bit once we got going. And it did…we did. We got warmer and ran back to the car to drop off jackets/sweatshirts, because we didn’t want to carry that stuff for the whole run. BIG MISTAKE. I even held onto my hat and gloves, but it didn’t seem to matter. From that point on, it didn’t warm up. In fact, it just got colder as the sun set and we never really got warm again.

2 hours later we returned to the car – freezing and tired. And sore. I have a freaking sore hip – like I am 90 or something. I am amazed at my ability to fall apart at such a young age and this is the icing on the cake. I am two days out of that long run and it is hard to walk, or even lay on that side. I am just not looking forward to 13.1 miles on Saturday.