Dry Martini: So. Many. Hills.

By my back-of-the-envelope calculation, I’ve started this race report from the Austin Half Marathon at least a gazillion times. I just want it to be perfect, you know? And fully encapsulate every last minute of what wound up being an amazing weekend with 10 other BAMRS (but that also makes those who weren’t there feel good about their life choices)? And that manages to inspire and amuse? And that I can pull together when I’m deep in post-race ennui and under several metric tonnes of laundry and don’t even really have the will to make a grilled cheese sandwich?

My looming deadline has forced me to focus on progress rather than perfection, which is how I approach my running, too. In the hope of actually writing something (even if it doesn’t soar, dammit), I’m going to make a list, because a list is what I can handle right now.

• First thing first: my time was 2:37, which is not even within shouting distance of my half marathon PR. Viewed simply by that metric, the race was a failure. But by any other metric in the universe, it was a smashing success.

The BAMR contingent.

• I lived in Austin for five+ years in the mid-1990s — the husband and I both went to UT after we graduated from Allegheny College — and will pine for parts of the Austin experience for as long as I’m alive. Austin has changed quite a bit since I lived there, as have I. I’m already in the tank for Austin, is what I’m saying, so take this next part with a grain of salt: there are few hike and bike trails better than the one around Ladybird lake. My Friday morning shake-out run with BRF Lisa , who I only get to run with quarterly, took us on parts of the path that were mere sketches the last time I was in town. It was glorious to be on a boardwalk over the water on a 60 degree morning.

BRF Lisa laid hands on the great Stevie Ray Vaugh (with a photobomb from Moxie, who jumps up on his monument every morning).

• If you ever have the opportunity to watch the Olympic Marathon Trials in a roomful of runners, each of whom broke out in goosebumps toward the end when Shalane and Amy were doing their best friend supportive thing, please jump on that opportunity. It’s even better if you are eating excellent brisket and foam rolling in prep for the next morning’s race.
• On that note, who wants to host a viewing party in 2020?

Flat Adrienne, reporting for duty.

• During last week’s podcast, Sarah and I joked that it was likely that more than a few mother runners had their own Shalane-Amy-friendship-support moment during their long runs that weekend. I certainly did. Coach Christine ran on my right for my 13.1. BAMR Heidi G. was on my left. Last years’ AMR in Saucony runner Amy would wander up ahead, then drop back to relay information about food and beverages on the course. BRF Lisa would turn up every now and again to report on which song had cycled up on her running mix and to give me a refreshing moist towelette when I felt like I was about to parboil. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such running friends.

Maybe Coach Christine and I shouldn’t be allowed to be unsupervised at Expos.

• What’s amazing is how well the whole weekend came together. I’d casually mentioned in one of the Mother Runner Facebook groups that I was really tempted to run this race. Suddenly, there was a posse. While its size waxed and waned during the months before the race, ten runners + me made the trek. Each BAMR found a need and filled it, from transportation to reservations to snacks. Natalie, whose birthday it also happened to be, had shirts made. Of course, we all felt the need to eat cupcakes in celebration of her natal day — and for carb-loading, of course.
• I’m pondering doing the 3M in January or the Mission Run in San Antonio in February. Just putting it out there.
• Around mile 8, shortly after I felt like I couldn’t take a decent, deep breath and just couldn’t keep up a PR pace, there was a woman watching the race from her yard with her pet pig. Both seemed amused.
• We chatted during the first parts of the run, where the course goes up and up and up for what feels like 1000 miles. There was some good cop/bad cop from Coach and Heidi. There was a joke about the use of the word “bolus” that was funnier at the time. Both seemed really concerned that I wasn’t carrying water or drinking from offered bottles. Given that I usually don’t run with water, I didn’t think too much of it.
• Did I mention it was hilly? Holy Mother of Pearl, it was hilly. There’s a hill at mile 12 that was just cruel. By then, though, I knew that just finishing would be a victory and walked most of it.
• On my flight home, I finally had a chance to read the Runner’s World interview with Shalane about her race. When she started to describe how she felt during her last few, dehydrated miles — chills, red face, dizzy, urge to walk — I had a revelation. Since I’ve only been running for a few years, I just figured that was how the end of a long run should feel. Those adjectives describe nearly the last few miles of nearly every long run I’ve done.

The visor I wore during the race and my medal. Yes, those are salt stains. Yes, I now know that I should get liquid in my body.

• That revelation alone was worth the price of the race, flight, hotel (to say nothing of the fun and BAMRs and brisket). I’m not simply out of shape, I need to hydrate while running. You’d think I would have figured this out long before now. You’d be totally wrong. What other blindingly obvious facts am I missing?

No, I’m really asking. What other blindingly obvious running facts am I missing?