2010 San Antonio Rock ‘n’ Roll Half Marathon Race Recap

I know, I know. This race recap is long overdue. But back in 2010, I couldn’t manage running and blogging at the same time. So, as I get close to running my first race for 2011, I know I have to record what happened that awesome day in November of last year before I forget for good.

Saturday, November 13, 2010
Leah and Dan host a pre-race pasta lunch at their house, then we load up and all five us (Leah, Dan, Tom, Rebekah, and me) drive south on 35 to San Antonio.

We go to the Expo for packet pickup. There are about 30,000 runners expected at this event, so there are hoards of runners and supporters gathered in clumps in and around the expo area. I am nervous–very, very nervous. The most I’ve run to date is nine miles. So I’m just extremely unsure about the other 4.1. And to make matters worse, when I registered, I estimated by finish time as four hours. Conveniently, this is the maximum allotted course time, so I’ve received some emails about a van coming around to pick up slow folks when the time limit is up. My motto for the weekend is “no vans.”

Once inside the expo, though, I perk up. They’ve got the finisher medals on display and, while I don’t consider myself overly materialistic, the half marathon medals are glittery and shiny and I ooh and ash over them like a 13-year-old girl who just received her first set of Lisa Frank stationary back in 1993. Not that I ever did that in 1993 or anything.

The expo is the biggest one I’ve ever attended and has a more corporate feel to it than some of the other races I’ve done. Leah, Rebekah, and I spend a long time (i.e., hours) shopping around the clothes section. I decided to buy a fairly pricey tech shirt, mostly because it says “San Antonio Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon Series” on the sleeve. No vans, I remind myself in the checkout line.

Sunday, November 14, 2010
I don’t sleep well, even though our hotel is new and nice. I’m just in a restless sleep, worried about not finishing. We get up very early (so early I can’t remember anymore), and I still am not sure what I’m wearing. I opt for capris, a dri-fit short sleeve top, and gloves. It’s only going to be about 50 degrees when we first go outside, but I’m too nervous to deal with a coat during the race. I decide to wear one over to the start line and then leave my coat in my gear check bag.

We walk to the start line, and the whole area is buzzing with runners and their families and friends. There are big groups of folks, small huddles, and people just walking around solo. They’re all shapes and sizes, and watching all of them collectively is like watching Fashion Week: Workout Clothes Edition.

Gear check consists of clear plastic bags where you can put any item you want after your race. My bag includes my coat, a Zone bar, my cell phone, and some other stuff I can’t remember. There are UPS trucks lined up for as far as I can see. Once you find your designated truck (they’ve assigned each truck a portion of the alphabet), you drop off your bag and start making your way to your designated corral. Since there are so many runners, all with varying levels of speeds, the race is on a wave start, meaning only a corral will be allowed to start at one time. While I appreciate the fact this minimizes my likelihood of being trampled, because I registered with such a slow finish time estimate, I’m in corral 31. There are only about 33 corrals. Bless Rebekah and Leah. Even though they have earlier corral numbers, they elect to start with me. The race starts, but we’re so far back, we don’t hear the National Anthem or the first official start gun. We slowly start walking down the street, and every five seconds I think we’re starting, even though I have no idea where the real start line is. (In hindsight, let me tell you: if you ever run a race, you’ll know when you reach the start line. Oh, you’ll know.)

Here’s what happened after we crossed the start line:

Rebekah ran with us for a few minutes, and then we waved goodbye to her.

Mile 1: We settle into jogging, and even though I’m terribly nervous, I am proud that it’s not impacting my breathing. The Rock ‘n’ Roll series has bands and water stops on nearly every mile. I learn quickly that listening for music means we’re getting closer to having the next mile done.
Mile 2-3: We jog past the Alamo. Oh, I am a native Texan. This is so awesome. We pass a runner wearing a t-shirt that says, “Strong is the new sexy.” I make a mental note to buy one for myself.
Mile 4-5: Leah and I comment on how many runners we see who have already decided they need a pit stop. There are long lines for the porta potties.
Mile 6-7: Right around the halfway point, we run through a large inflatable rock star. He’s an advertisement for the series; for approximately three seconds I pretend I’m in the Macy’s Day parade and not on a half marathon course. A runner passes us with a t-shirt that says, “Your pace or mine.” I find this incredibly funny.
Mile 8-9: Leah and I are doing a pyramid of jog/walk intervals, ranging from 12 minutes of jogging/two minutes of walking to shorter intervals, like three minutes of jogging and two minutes of walking. By miles eight and nine, I can tell my brain is not firing as fast…we begin to have more trouble remembering which interval we’re on. We laugh at our “funny math.” It’s around this time that we roll into a water stop that’s also serving bananas. And I see this three-foot banana walking around. And I think to myself, “Why is that fruit walking?” I keep staring until it turns towards me, and I realize it’s a little girl dressed in a banana costume. Funny, but not nearly as cool as walking fruit.
Mile 10-11: At this point in the race, I want to cry for my momma. I get confused (from fatigue) and underestimate how long it will take us to see the mile 11 marker. It feels slightly longer than forever. Leah and I have an unspoken agreement, though. We don’t discuss our pain. Ever.
Mile 12: When this mile marker comes into view, I enter into a euphoric state. At this point, I realize we’re about 2:45 in, and even if I have to crawl 1.1 miles, bearing complete catastrophe, WE WILL FINISH. I am overjoyed and begin to celebrate. Leah gently reminds me we don’t have time to pull over for an emotional breakdown yet. ‘Cause, you know, we do have to actually finish. Spectators start calling out final mileage left, and soon it becomes less than a mile.
Mile 13.1: Crossing the finish line is a dream come true. Here’s to never saying never and never giving up. And no vans.

Congrats to Rebekah, Dan, Tom, and Leah for all their amazing times. Leah and I cross the finish line at 3:02. I wanted to do it in three hours, so I am ecstatic with 3:02. 58 whole minutes before the van drives by.

Post-Race Recovery
After the race, we drive to Red Robin and have endless baskets of fries and burgers. I’m moving slower than I have ever moved before, but I don’t care. We drive back to Austin and Leah and Rebekah come over. We go sit in the hot tub in my apartment complex and drink Californian wine from Rudy’s cups. Because that’s the post-race recovery recipe of half marathoners.

Overall, this race will always hold a special place in my heart because it was my first half. I’d definitely do it again.