Sunday morning was a typical up at the crack-o-dawn race morning. I dressed in my sassy grey “prom dress” for the half-marathon as the t-shirt for the race was also a dull grey. EW and I jumped in the car and headed to the Tampa Convention Center and the start line. We parked and I was rather surprised that the traffic was a bit light, but there were far less runners in the half-marathon than the 5k the day before. We headed into the Convention Center and, truly, it was empty. EW was purchasing a cup of coffee and I mentioned getting to the 7:00 am start line when the Barista asked what race I was running. I responded very confidentially, “the half,” and he looked at me and told me the race had started at 6:am. Holy racing blisters it was almost 6:15.
I tossed my bottle of water and a jacket to EW and off I ran to the start, a good half-mile away. I don’t know if I was happy or sad to see others running to the start like me. We chuckled that we thought the race was a 7:am start as the 15k the day before had been a 7:am start. I suppose the lesson learned is to read my directions more thoroughly.
I ran through the start gate and noted the time. I was definitely starting well behind the official start. Bummer! I was hustling through the dark streets and at every intersection I crossed; the local police were removing the traffic barriers. I was obviously behind the sag wagon. The sag wagon positions behind the last runner, usually a walker, and follows along until the finish. If it is determined that the last runners/walkers are not going to complete the course in time, they are loaded up into the sag wagon and they ride to the finish. As I was running, I could see the sag cars up ahead. I started to sprint and as I was preparing to round a corner, a police officer pulled down the barrier and I saw some traffic headed my way. Eff it…I cut through a few yards and came out on the next street and got ahead of the next street closing. Ok, I was making up some time. I was tired from the two races the day before and decided I’d continue to sprint and once in front of the sag wagons I’d power walk until I caught my breath.
I was thrilled when I actually started pulling up to the sag wagon, and to my delight there was an older woman walking as though on a morning stroll. I started hauling ass again and cut in front of the two sag cars and her. I shouted hello and continued to run up to the next series of walkers. I wanted to put as many walkers and as much distance as I could between the sag vehicles and me.
The real conundrum is that this first 5 miles of the race were on Davis Island and the runners have to be across the Davis Island Bridge so the Island can open to the local traffic. I didn’t know what time frame had been put in place: I just know that I was hell bent to get off the bridge and onto Bay Shore Boulevard. I was NOT going to the finish in a sag wagon.
I made it across the bridge and as I was heading down Bay Shore I heard an announcement that the bridge was closed to runners and opened to traffic. Hell yeah. I was good to go. I would complete the race!
I relaxed and stopped mentally cursing my stupidity. I had 8 more miles to run up and down Tampa Bay. I prayed that the cool weather would compliment the runners and hoped I’d see no trauma as I had the day before. I slowed to a very brisk walk because my lungs were pounding. I’d spent myself catching up and passing the walkers. I was actually in a group of runners…at last…I felt vindicated. I relaxed and enjoyed my third race in two days. I was sad that I’d missed the start with some of my friends from Virginia, but I knew I’d see them at the finish.
I crossed the split and continued down Bay Shore to the turn. Holy blisters. I had less than 4 miles to go. I was going to concur this triffcta weekend. Up ahead of me I saw a large group of high school students in blue shirts. Oh dear lord. It was the 3-mile high school challenge and they were poised to start just as I approached them. Fabulous: me and 100 high school students pounding up Bay Shore together. And then I saw him; Jim Spoo was working his way up the road. Really? Jim Spoo? I had made up some good time! I sprinted up to him, passed a few pleasantries and felt rather good that I was pacing well ahead of him. Yes…the racing God was good to the Widow this morning and then the blue shirts began to run.
WTF! I was surrounded by the blue shirts. Short kids, tall kids, gangly kids, and kids that had no idea they were running a 3-mile course. They were weaving all over the road. Their coaches kept yelling at them to get to the right because the marathoners were running the left. They might as well have been talking to the dead. Suddenly, the marathoners were dodging blue shirts. They were bumping into us, weaving in between us, and stopping at the water stations to bolt down Gator Aid. Good luck with that…the runs will accompany your ride home, at least I hope it will. Um, ok snarky, but it was the cluster of all racing clusters. My fault, I know. I was the late arrival!
Up ahead of me was a mister. Misters had been set up due to the heat. I intended to run through the mist, grab some water and push to the finish 2 miles ahead. So, the blue shirts that had been running for a mile bolted to our lane and began to comingle under the mister. You have got to be kidding me. My “nice widow” by then was well gone. I hollered to get out of the lane and get back to their own, and I did not slow down. I had 2.1 miles to go and those little shits were not going to ruin my finish.
So, I got misted, watered, and then I saw the critter. Up ahead was a school mascot. I now stop and take a photo with all school mascots. Besides, if Jackie were following Face Book, she would see the post and know I was surviving my third race. I pulled out my phone and had a cheerleader snap my photo. I was absolutely thrilled to realize I’d had my photo taken with the Wharton Wildcat. My beautiful niece, Dr. Tara Johnson Pass had graduated from Wharton it seemed appropriate. Later that evening, I found out that TJ, the husband of my beautiful niece Michelle had actually been the Wharton Wildcat, back in the day! Ha…even better!
So, there I was heading to the finish: finally! Bad start: good finish. I texted EW that I was at mile 12 and I was laughing and screaming in glee that I’d concurred the trifecta, a crazy start, and the heat. I rounded the bend in the finishing chute and I saw EW…I saw EW unfurl a sign…there it was for a repeat visit, “Run Mike Hunt”…I was absolutely beside myself with laughter. I crossed over to the barrier, planted a kiss on EW’s cheek and screamed my way across the finish. The euphoria was amazing. I was high on life! I had just completed 13.1 miles after running a 15k and 5k the previous day.
EW met me at the food chute and we headed home to relax. Some lunch and a nap later, we planted ourselves on the lanai with Jackie and JR for a few adult beverages. EW and I opted for champagne and cigars and the kids bolted back a few beers. I was in seventh heaven. We ordered Italian food and I think I drank too much champagne and I didn’t care. I’d proved something to myself. In less than 24 hours I’d run enough miles to prove that I can handle the 26.2-mile course of the Marine Corp Marathon in October.
I definitely have more training ahead of me, but I have no doubt that my first marathon will be a success. OOO RAH!
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