My feet hurt from kicking so much ass

Ok, here it is. Half marathon. May 7, 2011. Provo, Utah. 8am.

Let's see what I can remember...my mom, Matt, Jared, and I were running it, so we all drove there (from Orem to Provo, not Texas to Provo) together. I was planning on running with my mom, and Matt was deciding whether or not he was going to run with Jared the whole way. We got to the starting line, and we started looking for the pacer for a 2:30 finish. We didn't see it or anything longer than maybe 2 hours, so we were thinking that we were too slow to even have a pacer. But no, we found her. We talked to her until the race started, and then we kept talking to her as we started running. Some chumps took our spots as the pacer's friends, so we just ran behind them until they stopped for water. We didn't need any water yet, so we kept on trotting (with our feet, not with other body parts, if you know what I mean. That comes later.). I knew that as long as the pacer stayed behind me, I'd beat my goal of not taking longer than 2:30. No problem.

So we ran. And ran. And ran. Then around mile 5 I said hasta la vista to my mom. And ran. And ran. And ran. I would also like to mention that I did all this running while holding onto my giant, dinosaur-of-an-iPod from, like, 2005, and I didn't even listen to it. Because we were talking to the pacer as we started, I didn't have my earphones in, and I just didn't want to bother putting them in. We ran through neighborhoods for a while, and I often thought about putting it into someone's mailbox.

I'm trying to think of anything noteworthy to mention between leaving my mom and mile 8 or 9, where Matt caught up with me. The only thing I can think of is that there was a pretty old lady running, and she was going pretty fast for how awkward her running looked. She had to be like 50. Ha, just kidding. She was way older than that. At least 55. Man, I'm a comedian tonight. Oh, another thing I thought was funny was that I passed this area with all these people, and I thought it looked like a place that should have water and all that stuff, but it didn't. I didn't realize until wayyyy later that it was the relay pass-off place. Whatever you'd call that. I was like, "I think that girl just got to the race and came in there." Duhhhhhh. Oh, and these girls were doing the run/walk thing, and it annoyed me, so I was glad when one of us passed the other for good.

Ok, so Matt found me at mile 8 or 9. He told me he was glad to find me because he was getting really tired from running fast after leaving (abandoning) Jared. So we ran. And ran. And ran. And I wanted to stop because I was having my fun intestinal issues that popped up during my training once I hit 8 miles, but Matt didn't stop, so I didn't stop. I tried entertaining myself once after a water station by stepping on as many uncrushed paper cups as possible as I ran past them. Quite satisfactory. Better than crunchy leaves. Highly recommended, but only if you're not running in front of me, because that would be rude of you to take my cups.

Let's see, let's see...I guess I don't remember that much to talk about until we came to the end. There was a bridge that went over the freeway, and we had to run over it at the beginning, and since I was having a really stupid day, apparently, I didn't think about how we'd have to run over it at the end too. I saw that bridge, and I was like, "Oh crap." Just like Peter Boyle from Everybody Loves Raymond, even though they really don't love him. I don't. But I did like Peter Boyle's character. RIP, Pete. Anyway, looking up at the bridge at the end was totes different than at the beginning. At the beginning, you'd look up, and the whole thing was covered in people. At the end, I saw like four people. (Dad, when I write like, I think of you. No Lexus for me.) So we ran up that damn hill. RAN. And ran. And ran. We probably did it slowly, but we ran.

As we came down the other side, we could see the blow up finish line thing. It looked so far away, so I didn't feel excited or anything. Then all of a sudden, I felt like it was close. Really close. And I started crying like a freaking idiot. Not just tearing up, like sobbing crying. I turned to Matt, and I was like, "I'm CRYING!" I knew I would cry, but this just hit me, and I was surprised. So I said, "I'm so stupid! Marathoners can cry. Halfers can't!" So I made myself stop. But then I looked up and saw my friends who came to cheer me on, and it all started again. The stupid sobbing! I covered my face so they couldn't see how lame I was, and then I tried to keep it in. And I did. And I finished.

And that is the end of my ass-kicking story. Because the race then kicked mine, and I went to the bathroom. A few times.

Oh, here are my stats:
1st half: 1:11:12, pace: 10:52
2nd half: 1:12:55, pace: 11:08
Total: 2:24:07, pace: 11:00

Matt's:
1st half: 1:16:59, pace: 11:45
2nd half: 1:07:08, pace: 10:15
Total: 2:24:08, pace: 11:00

before