13.1

On Sunday, July 21st, I ran in the Rock 'n' Roll Chicago Half Marathon. 13.1 miles. Yes! I did it! I'm throwing myself a small party with this blog post. I mainly do this so that one day in December when my life is a mess I can look back and see that, indeed, I was successful in accomplishing something this year. Last fall I ran the Hot Chocolate 15k so I figured I could step it up and try a longer distance. Somehow, I finished at about an 11-minute-mile rate. (All you real-life-runner-people-with-7-minute-miles, I don't want to hear your scoffs.) My next goal will be to do one with 10-minute-miles, but in the meantime I'm just giddy with excitement that I did cross the finish line and that I still have legs. It went oddly well. It made me oddly positive and happy and excited and proud all at the same time. Running will do that to you.

A gross, sweaty, yet triumphant picture of me, compliments of Brian. 

Once again, my favorite part of the race was the people watching I got to do along the way. Let me tell you about a few:

1. There was the guy in a Pikachu costume, a plush, heavy, and smelly outfit to wear on a race in the middle of July.

2. There was the engaged couple who apparently were mandated to run this race by whomever was facilitating their premarital counseling, because I spent about 1.2 miles with them as they bickered back and forth: "You go run! You hate slowing down for me anyway!"..."No we're DOING THIS TOGETHER, remember? I'll be the jerk if I leave you here!"..."Well if you wanna walk the rest of the way with me in silence then BE MY GUEST!" Whew. AWKWARD. Best of luck to you two.

3. There was this little old white-haired lady wrapped up in a turtleneck and blankets as she sat in her wheelchair and silently holding a tiny sign on the sidewalk that said "Go Sara Ann" and it may or may not have broken my heart of sweetness.

4. There was the Pentecostal church who volunteered to hand out water to the runners who said "You are BLESSED! KEEP GOING!"..."Today is YOUR DAY!"... and "GIRL I KNOW YOU CAN DO THIS!" as I went past their tables. This event was good for my ego.

5. There were the frat boys in the bro tanks and very short American flag running shorts. They wore neon green Ray-Bans and high fived a lot.

6. There was a 12-year-old who ran by me at the speed of lightning right before Mile 1 and by Mile 2 was sitting down on the curb catching his breath. Nobody gave him the pacing talk. Poor kid.

7. There were a lot of chicks in tutus. Weird.

8. Finally, my favorite people were those cheering everyone along; bystanders were indiscriminately handing out encouragement for free to just about every single runner. I saw hilarious signs that read TAKE A TAXI IT'S WAY FASTER, JUST KEEP SWIMMING, and, my favorite, at mile 12, IF YOU HAVEN'T POOPED YOUR PANTS YET THEN YOU'RE ALL CHAMPIONS.  Profound.

Other than the fact that my hamstrings still feel as tight as skinny jeans fresh out of the dryer, I'd say the whole experience was a success.