Salt Lake City Half Marathon

So I have been running half marathons for almost two years now. I've never really taken training that seriously because, really, the thought of running 13 miles for fun in preparation for running 13 miles in a race is, well, fucking insane. Usually I would get up to 7 or 8 and call it good. I'd finish the race in a reasonable amount of time (well, reasonable for someone who hates running, not so reasonable if you're Jillian Michels) and vow never to run again, only to be sucked back in a few months later in an effort to lose a ton of weight.

This year I told myself I was going to run Robie Creek, and I was actually going to adequately prepare for it. If you're unfamiliar with Robie Creek, it's sale's pitch is "the toughest half in the northwest." They're not fucking around, either. It's essentially a 13.1 mile hill climb, culminating with what I'm sure are a ton of dead people at the top of the summit. When it became blatantly clear that me, myself and my knees that we are so not cut out for such a demanding task, I registered for the Salt Lake City half marathon. If Robie Creek is a vertical climb, Salt Lake was the exact inverse: a downhill sprint. YES! Right up my alley. Plus, we had actually been running distances for several weeks leading up to this race, so I was feeling very good.

So I wrangled up some friends, and we took a road trip down to Salt Lake to run. Katie and I ran the half and Tessa and Kristin ran the 5K.





First off, I love road trips. I especially love road trips when you have a ton of people who are equally as judgmental, hilarious and full of wit like you are. We had a fantastic time on the way down to Salt Lake, and I'm going to laugh uncontrollably every time I hear the word "algorithm."





Katie and I got up at the butt-crack of dawn (wait, it may have even been BEFORE the butt-crack of dawn) to catch the public transportation to the start of the race at the University of Utah.



A) I hate public transportation and B) I hate it even more when bitches get on the train when there is CLEARLY no room and force me to get closer than necessary to the smelly dude standing a mere millimeter away from me. I wanted to bitch-slap one of the really, really hard.

So Katie and I ran this race, and I have to say, for the first half of it, I was feeling amazing. We were cruising along at what can only be described as a break-neck pace, and I was fine until I hit mile 9 and started to feel the pain in my left leg that I was hoping would go away before the race. I'm fairly certain I tweaked my sciatica a few weeks ago, but me being me, I just tried to ignore it. Around mile 11, the pain became almost unbearable, and I started to hobble myself on the side of the road. By mile 12.5, I decided I had had enough of this shit and sprinted the rest of the race. The pain wasn't going to get any better, so I might as well run the shit out of it.

I finished the race in 2:20, which is almost 20 minutes faster than I finished the last half marathon I did. I was so completely elated, I almost forgot about all the pain I was in.

Another great thing about half marathons is you get a medal at the end of it.



We drove back to Boise that same day, and I vowed to finish my next half marathon (Avenue of the Giants on May 2nd!) in 2:15.

That was until I injured my knee last night in my indoor soccer game. Soccer is fun because you get out all this pent up aggression; soccer is not fun when you get hurt. I'd prefer to be the one doing the hurting. I'm really, really hoping I didn't tear my ACL again because the tennis season just started, and I was so, so excited about this race coming up. :(

Anyway, stay posted! I go to the Ortho tomorrow to find out if I'm screwed.