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Results
| Name |
Time |
Pace |
Placing |
Div (Male 30-39) |
Sex |
| Jason Grose |
1:53:12 |
8:39 |
149 |
47 |
121 |
Today, I awoke nice and early because I ran the Monterey
Bay Half marathon. What I thought was going to be a nice little
13 mile jaunt (I’m up to 20 mile training runs on weekends)
turned into, um, how should I put it… a root canal by
a proctologist.
I guess it wasn’t the smartest move to stay up
until 0100 watching The Barber Shop (which was a laugh-out-loud
good show, by the way) when I knew that I had to get up at 0600.
But hey, only 13 miles, right?
The morning started off decent enough with two complete
“deposits into the porcelain account” if you know
what I mean. By the way, if you are not a runner, let me warn
you right now that discussions involving running usually involve
subjects not normally discussed in polite society.
To complete my running prep routine, by 0630 I had
two brown ops completed, band-aids on the nipples, and my nether
regions slathered with Vaseline. Who says running isn’t
glamorous?
My friend, Major Glenn Rogers, arrived shortly after
and we jogged about a mile to the stadium where the race started.
We checked in where we got our goody bag, t-shirt, and for the
first time, a timing chip to attach to our shoe. I had never
participated in a race using this technology and it was kind
of cool. You tie this little transmitter to your shoelace and
it detects you crossing both the starting and finish lines,
automatically calculating your stats.
Our goal was to clock 8-minute miles which we did for
the first half of the race. But then I spontaneously sprouted
a vagina and the hills got the better of me. Glenn surged ahead
of me (outwardly, I was like “Go ahead Glenn, get your
run on!” Inwardly, “FAG!”)
My pace slowed considerably as the hills took their
toll (there were more of them than I expected) and then at about
mile 6, the course took a long downward turn and I thought for
a glorious moment that I was going to make up the time I lost.
There it was, a monstrous down grade with nothing to stop me.
Yipeee!!!
About 1/3 of the way down, my joy turned to terror.
In a span of about a minute, I started getting a bit of a stomach
ache. Then it happened. I can only describe it as the feeling
of a basketball dropping the 6 inches from my gut to the oil
pan of my ass. It suddenly dropped and the only thing between
“it” and sunshine was one straining membrane.
At this point, my body and I had a little conversation
(actually, it was talking, I was in listen-only mode). “Look,
this is going to happen whether you pull over or not. It’s
not a voluntary situation, my friend, so either you find a little
privacy or we’re going to play little game called “muddy
legs” for the rest of the race."
Loud and clear, Bud.
I pulled over and luckily found a little cove of trees
where I was blocked by the oncoming racers, although I could
be in the middle of being knighted at that moment and not cared
that the Queen of England saw what God felt prudent to bestow
on me.
I lost about 4 minutes (among other things) but was
free to enjoy the rest of the downhill after my pit stop.
The rest of the race was a battle with the hills, the
increasing heat, and the knowledge that my Financial Management
in the Armed Forces professor was somewhere behind me. He gave
me a B+ in the class so naturally, I had to beat him mercilessly
at the race. (Yes, I deserved the B+, but that’s not the
point! Stay with me here! Focus!)
The last couple of miles were an exercise of will.
I was hot, I was tired, and I was not all that strong. In other
words, this little 13 mile jaunt was anything but. I lost my
buddy, had to make a pit stop, performed shamefully on the hills,
and had to deal with the fact that older, heavier people were
passing me like I was a newbie.
I tried to pick it up at the end and managed to clock
some pretty good miles. Even coming in the stretch, I managed
to pick up the pace (as you always do when people are watching).
I even pulled the jerk move of surging at the end to pass someone
in the last 100 yards. I was trying to avoid the same happening
to me but afterwards realized that it was my own butt-pack that
was making the clomping noise that sounded like a pursing runner.
So ironically, in trying to avoid being passed up in the chute,
I did the same to another. Again, not the sportsman that I strive
to be.
As I finished, one of the race workers whose job it
was to clip the chip off of your shoe, bent down to do his duty.
I was so fatigued that I was bent over trying to stay conscious
as this guy struggled to make the clip. I had to turn to the
side so as not to slobber on him and if I could have spoken
at that moment, I would have encouraged him to move things along
before he gets a strawberry yogurt surprise on his back. After
that, I lumbered forward with a fresh head rush as I stood,
only to be greeted by a small boy whose job it was to put the
medal around the finisher's head. As I bent down, I wondered
how scarred for life this little tike will be when I pop out
of consciousness and collapse on him. But I did manage a “Thank
you, buddie” and it was not required to call youth services
on me.
My final time was 1:53 which ended up being about an
8:39 per mile pace. The rule of thumb for a half marathon is
that you double it and add 10% for an estimate of your marathon
time. That puts me at 4:09 for the marathon so I still have
some work to get done in order to break my sub-4 hour goal.
For about 45 minutes, I walked around and talked to
the people I knew as we discussed the nuances of the race. Glenn
clocked an impressive 1:40 and considering my performance, I
was glad to break the 9 minute mile barrier for the race.
We saw one gentleman walking around with a white shirt
who looked like he’d been shot twice in the chest. Anyone
with running experience will instantly understand that this
guy did not take the proper nipple protection and paid dearly.
This event has happened ONCE to me and I can safely say that
it will never happen to this guy again. The Bloody Nipple is
not a situation soon forgotten.
I was a sloth for the rest of the day and naps abounded.
As a final tip of the hat to my wonderful wife, she understood
I needed this time to mentally as well as physically rest. This
weekend is my only break between quarters because Monday I start
my new quarter.
Once thing I didn’t expect is the level of effort
required to finish this race. I’ll never take a half marathon
lightly again.
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