Slow and Steady Wins the Race.

Not really. I didn't win the race. In fact, it may be something of an overstatement to even call it a race. For what I did, perhaps a more accurate term is crawl. So, slow and steady finishes the crawl. That's hot. Not.

But seriously, the half marathon I was training for took place yesterday. And I finished!! And that was really my only goal; I wanted to finish and I wanted to finish in under 3 hours. I whizzed past the finish line in 2:47. Yep, that's 2 hours and 47 minutes. I quite possibly might have been able to walk it in the same amount of time. However, in my own defense, I was good up until about mile 10, when my feet, legs and hips went on strike. The last 3 miles or so is what really cost me some time.

While I was training, I was so concerned with my endurance level, cardio, hydration, etc., that I cut back on the weight and interval training I was doing for my lower body. Note to self: bad idea; don't do this next time. Consequently, at about mile 10, I felt good energy/cardio/hydration-wise, but like I said, my lower body was committing mutiny. I could hear my quads saying, "You need to sit your ass down and eat a muffin." And from my feet, "Oh HELL no, bitch!!" And let me tell you, my hips don't lie: "Stop the madness sister, no one is chasing you!"

I will say the course had WAY more hills than I had anticipated. This could be one reason for the attitude from my lower body. And the attitude just keeps on coming, since today I am limping around much like someone who has recently contracted polio or some other debilitating disease that renders your legs non-functional.

I have two words for some of the women joining me in this half marathon: Sports Bra. You better batten those girls down if you don't want them hitting your knees in the next couple of years. Seriously, this is no joke. It was painful to watch.

However, not as painful as watching some of the men bust out of the gate at breakneck speed, only to be passed by the glacier-like Blonde Blogger, as they ran out of gas 6 miles into it. I was shocked at how fast a lot of the men started the race. And these men looked like your average everyday Joe Sixpack; what were they thinking? Even I know better than that...I mean, you take one look at some of these people and you know they are runners and that they have done this a million times and that they might actually be trying to win this thing. But Joe Sixpack over there, sprinting through miles 1, 2, and 3 is a different story. WTF??

A couple shout-outs (OMG, that is SO eighties!):

Crazy Running Friend: Even though you have made it painfully obvious that you attribute your post-race soreness to me, because I made you run so slow, I appreciate the fact that you did this with me. Thank you.

Sister In Law: I don't know what you were smoking when you told me that, "It's a mind game...if you can run 10 miles, you can run 13.1. Just relax and enjoy the scenery." Thank you for the cute martini glass socks and I love you in spite of your apparent insanity; it was not so much a mind game as a foot/leg/hip game. That I lost.

Dad: Thank you for remembering and calling to wish me good luck.

Offspring #2: When I told you that I finished the race in 2 hours and 47 minutes, a really slow time, you looked at me and asked, "Why do you need to go any faster than that?" Precisely. Thank you for reminding me that the whole point was just to finish. This is the same child that asked me why I would want to take a test that no one can pass.

Perfect Husband: Thank you for thinking I look hot in running shorts and calling me an "athlete."

To all my Other Friends That Were Interested and Supportive: Thank you so much for all the emails and text messages and voicemails. It felt good to have a distraction from the misery of the bar exam and the fact that none of you laughed out loud when I told you I was going to do this tells me that I have chosen the right people to be my friends. It is greatly appreciated.

I signed up for another half marathon in October.....all you skinny bitches blowing past me with your fancy running gear are going to....Eat. My. Dust.