WARNING -- (Very Long) Seattle Half Marathon Report

I'm long-winded, not wanting to leave out any detail, so be forewarned. To make the long story short, I finished in 2:48:10 (chip time). Not a stellar time, and much slower than last year, but I was upright and vertical with a huge grin on my face.

Now, for the rest of the story...

This was my fourth consecutive Seattle Half Marathon. For some reason, probably the threat of bad weather, I just can't bring myself to do the full marathon. That and I've just started my own tradition of doing the half for the last few years.

As I am not one that likes to get up any earlier than absolutely necessary, and freely admit that I am a woman that is all about convenience and willing to pay for it, I usually get a hotel room in town the night before the race. This way, I can wake up an hour or two later than if I had to drive up. It also eliminates the problem of finding a parking space and/or freezing my ass off while waiting for the gun to sound.

So, at my leisure, I drove up to Seattle (I'm only about 35 miles south) and checked into my hotel. Once I got to my hotel room, I was pleasantly surprised to have this view out my window. It was way cool, especially at night when it is all lit up like the big Christmas tree that is on top. I tried to take a night time picture, but I did it from my room and it didn't turn out. And I wasn't up for going outside to try for another shot.

After checking in, I walked the half mile to the Westin hotel for the expo and packet pick up. As soon as I walked in the door, I realized I'd left my confirmation card at the hotel and we are supposed to have those in order to pick up our packets. However, I stopped at the trouble desk and asked the nice young lady if she was going to make me go back and get it. She said no, asked me my last name, pulled me up on her computer, and went to get my packet for me. Cool.

Next up was hitting the expo and getting my goody bag. One thing Seattle has started doing is having great Asics long-sleeved technical shirts for their marathons. Being in the northwest, having a long-sleeved shirt for long runs is a pretty nice thing. In 2002, the color was blue. In 2003, it was a gawd-awful orange. In 2004, it was a puke-green. This year, it was a much nicer brick red. Now, some folks might like the orange and the green, but I am not a fan of those colors, though I wear the shirt anyway. I actually like the red, though.

Now it was time to go poking about at the expo. I was interested in some cold weather tights. I wanted to pick up a pair that I could use for both running and cycling. Yes, cycling. I'm trying to train my backside to ride the bike sans chamois. I've discovered I have a lot of trouble with some of the padding in cycling shorts and would choose to eliminate that particular problem. So, I find two pairs, one by Sugoi and another by Adidas. I'm not very brand loyal so long as what I buy suits my needs.

I mosey around the expo, waiting for my friend, Carol, to call and find myself at the CompuTrainer booth. Of course, like many a triathlete, I'm a gizmo geek and this is one of those things that I've drooled over ever since I started training and racing. However, I could never seem to justify the expense. In talking about the trainer with the sales rep, he learns the name of my coach and then offers me an additional discount, over and above what he has already offered me. I tell him I have to call my husband first, which I do, but I knew what his answer would be, "Do what you want." So I did. I bought the darn thing. I figure if I'm going to spend hour after hour on my trainer this winter, I may as well train on the (simulated) courses I'll be riding. Cha-ching.

I finally meet up with Carol and eventually we head to my hotel for dinner at the local restaurant. Good thing we left when we did as it would seem the monorail got itself into a bit of a "jam" shortly after we left the area. Oops. Clearly, not one of someone's better days.

When we arrive at the restaurant, we have to wait for a few minutes before we are seated. While there were a few tables with people at them, it wasn't packed and there were plenty of open tables available. A few minutes later, a waiter comes by to take our drink order. A few minutes later, same waiter comes by to take our dinner order. I looked at my watch. It was 6:57 p.m. Twenty minutes later, I finally get the diet coke I asked for. At 7:44 p.m., we are finally served our respective meals (bare chicken caesar for me and fish & chips for Carol). Not wanting to jump to conclusions, I asked the waiter why it took so long to get our meal. He said it was the kitchen. Yeah, the kitchen is to blame for a 20 minute delay in the coke delivery, too. Not. I didn't leave a tip. Bad service doesn't deserve one.

Once dinner was over (much later than I would have liked), Carol and I went our separate ways and I head back to my room to get my clothes ready for the next day. I decided against wearing the new tights as that is a classic newbie mistake. And for all that the shirt in the goody bag is a technical one, it felt scratchy to the touch and I figured I better save that for another day. Besides, I'm a big one on not wearing a race shirt until after I've earned the right to do so (by completing the event).

Finally, I was able to wind down enough to go to bed and actually go to sleep around ten. Of course, six o'clock the next morning came way too early. But I managed to rouse myself, make some coffee, and looked out the window. Rats, the street was wet which of course meant it had been raining. And it appeared it was still raining. As I donned my attire for the day, I managed to eat a single Baker's Breakfast Cookie (Oatmeal Raisin, my favorite) and down just a few sips of coffee. This is not my usual breakfast, but I don't have a toaster handy.

Barb shows up while I'm dressing. Since we were expecting rather cold temps, and possibly rain (or even snow), I try to dress warmly. Once I'm done dressing, we head to the lobby where we meet up with Darcy IronAyla ) who is looking slightly chilled. The good news was the sky was clearing. We could only hope that the weather would hold.

We only had twenty minutes or so to the start of the race and Barb and I still needed to dump off our extra clothing at the baggage check. That done, Barb says she needs to use the potty, but that was no dice. Only 10 minutes to the start and the lines are longer than that.

The gun went off exactly on time. It took us three minutes to get to the start line. I had wanted to do a 5/1 run/walk ratio to ensure that I would finish the race. Barb and Darcy agreed to run that pace with me. Barb because she is having issues with her knee and Darcy would because she was just running it for fun and wanted company. We also decided we would probably run without walking for the first mile or two until it was slightly less crowded. I have a hard time with people that suddenly start walking in front of runners. In my (narrow) view, walkers should move to the far right (or left) and get out of the way. They should also not walk three and four abreast thereby impeding runners behind them. But I have a lot of pet peeves when it comes to racing. That's just one of them. You'll hear about a few more later as I'm quite vocal about my opinions and hold little back. News flash there to my friends and training buddies, eh?

So, there we are running down Fifth Avenue and me wishing I had a camera to take a picture of the buckled underside of the monorail. There was some serious damage done to that system and will likely be out of service for months. Bummer. Especially during the holiday season when many people use it to get from the Center to Downtown.

We weren't far into the race when I began to notice some chafing on my inner thigh. That didn't make sense though because these weren't new tights. I'd worn them many times before. I looked down and notice that the seam had started to split. Now, I know I've put on a few pounds, but that just wasn't called for. Well, I didn't bring a needle and thread with me, so I was just going to have to keep running.

About a mile into the run, you have the opportunity to be looking down on the crowd in front of you. It is an amazing sight to see thousands of runners around you, all with the same goal in mind: to get to the finish line.

The first few miles went great and I was feeling pretty good. I was actually surprised when an hour had gone by. We'd only done 5 miles by then, but I knew I wasn't going to PR, so I tried not to worry about my time too much. This was strictly going to be a test of my knee and I'm happy to say it fared very well.

About mile 6 or so, Barb needed to stop and use the port-a-potty. Darcy and I stopped with her. I looked down to examine the chafing and was shocked at how bad it looked. I wasn't quite sure what to do since I'd never been in that position before. But Darcy pointed out the aid station. It was unmanned, but had some "blister pads." I found one marginally large enough to cover the chafing and applied it.

After that, we were on our way again. Darcy kept pulling ahead of us and would then stand around and wait for Barb and I to catch up. I finally told her to just go. Goodness, Barb and I are old ladies and there was no reason she should hang back with us when she could go faster. She trotted off and seemed glad to go. I was happy for her.

It wasn't long before we approached Galer. Galer is a very short hill with a very sharp grade. I don't really know what the grade is, but it's pretty darned steep. The problem with Galer is the hill doesn't end there. Once you make your way onto Madison, you have to keep climbing. Last year, this was not a problem for me. I was able to actually run up Madison. This year I was content to walk. We began to run again once we topped the rise and began to go downhill again on Lake Washington Blvd.

I fully expected to walk up Interlaaken when I got there, but I was surprised to find I could continue to run for quite a bit. After a while, I admit we walked a little longer than our 60 seconds, but by then, we came to my favorite part of the route. It's the part of the course that goes through Interlaaken park. It's here where I meet up with another of my pet peeves.

Barb and I are running along, chatting with each other as we can, cautioning each other about slipping on the wet leaves, when I hear and see a Propel bottle hit the ground. I also immediately see who dropped the bottle and challenge her by calling her a "litterbug." She just looks at me. I was extremely angry at her careless and callous disregard for the park and her obvious lack of knowledge of course etiquette in spite of the two year old Seattle Marathon shirt she was wearing (as was I). I angrily shouted at her, "You pack it in, you pack it out!" Again, nothing from her that acknowledged that she did anything wrong. I finally told her she was a bitch and should be ashamed of herself. At this point her man-friend-husband-running-buddy-whatever says, "Okay, you've made your point now shut the hell up." Well, that just fueled the fire. Now, if they had apologized, or acknowledge the wrongess of what they'd done, I would have been okay with it. But they were clueless. Stupid. Moronic. And it annoys me when people exhibit that level of self-imposed ignorance. So, like a little kid, and certainly not like an adult, I told him to "Make me [shut up]." That the "Last time I checked, it was still a free country and I could say what I liked for as long as I liked." Okay, so not the most mature response in the world. They ran on ahead, and I didn't bother to try and keep up. Clearly, they weren't worth the effort.

Before I hardly knew it, mile 10 arrived. By now I was counting down, and while I was still walking 60 seconds every 5 minutes, and sometimes 10 minutes (I didn't always hear my watch, so I would keep going until the next time), I was starting to feel my hips and hamstrings.

I was getting excited. We were approaching the end. It wouldn't be long and we would see the finish line. I think my pace picked up just a little.

About mile 12 or so, guess who I see? Litterbug and her friend are ahead of me and I'm catching up quickly. I wasn't even trying, it was simply just easy to run at this point. So, naturally wanting to have the final word and to maybe soften the message just a little, I very nicely and quietly say as I'm passing, "Maybe next time you will reconsider throwing that bottle." They say something snide, to which I simply tell them in sign language that they are number one in my book. Another flippant remark from them, I don't remember what. He tries to make excuses saying it's a race. I try, unsuccessfully I think, to point out that that's what the aid stations are for (like, DUH! dude). I mention that I've done one or two races in my life and in some of those races, littering can get you DQ'd. He just keys in on my doing races and says something to the effect, "You sure don't look like it." At which point I just finally say, "Yeah? Well, I'm ahead of you now, aren't I?"

I stayed that way, too. I also managed to get ahead of the little chubby gal wearing the Red Wind Casino shirt. I turned to Barb after the race and asked her if we'd passed and stayed passed that shirt. I'd never mentioned my desire to pick it off to her, but apparently she shared my thinking. Of course, getting ahead of Litterbug and her man-friend was just icing on the cake.

As Barb and I were approaching the final hill towards the stadium and finish line, we were passed by the lead wheelchair athlete. While this guy may not be able to walk (or run) using his feet, he was clearly not the least bit disabled!

When we enter the stadium, I say to Barb, "If you have anything left, now is the time to turn it on." And she promptly does. It makes me grin from ear to ear to watch her.

And that's how I crossed the finish line. Grinning like a fool. Small wonder considering the fool I made of myself arguing with stupidity. You'd think I'd know better by now, but apparently not. I still keep trying to better this world one individual at a time. But who knows? Maybe, just maybe, Ms. Litterbug will think twice before she tosses the next bottle. And one day, maybe, just maybe, she won't toss it. When that day comes, I'll be vindicated.