A Half = A Whole Lotta Effort!

I finished! And only 4 minutes slower than my secret hopeful time of 2 hrs 10 min (I reject my official chip time because it said that I started the race at :24, but the official race clock at the start line said :26 when I crossed the line and began running...the trigger must have been before I was actually through the start line?...so I'm taking two minutes off. I know, like it matters :) ) My hopeful time I spoke out loud was 2 hrs 25 min. I haven't trained much. My longest run in preparation was 8 miles...and that was on Memorial Day weekend...a month ago. I knew that I wasn't in the best shape going in (ummm, you may recall that sweet little lover I gave birth to nearly five months ago?). However, I knew that I could finish the darn thing.

Here comes the momma, mile 3.7, excited to see her babes

I wasn't counting on my legs cramping in the final two miles. I wasn't counting on running out of juice with just 1 mile left (ugh!). I wasn't counting on getting to see my peeps 3 times during the race (well, I guess I only heard them at the finish line since I wasn't expecting them to be there and it took everything in me to pick up my pace and get to the end...would you be able to turn and smile when you're trying not to die?!). I wasn't counting on running with Elvis. I wasn't counting on losing a toenail (though I'm not surprised). I also wasn't counting on briskly walking 2 miles before the race even began just to get the the start line (there were 30,000 people in this race).

I apologize for the unsightly thigh in this shot...please pay attention instead to my very excited face. Think I like my kids much?

Kissing snotty faces and loving every second...then it was back to business

I WAS counting on the elation that followed, but was surprised that I couldn't let myself feel totally good about it. I wanted to finish faster; I've never been a very fast runner, but wanted to be closer to my normal 10 min/mile pace for that long of a distance. I also kind of fell apart during the last mile and so I was annoyed with myself. I probably would have finished at my hopeful time if it hadn't been for that last mile; it seemed to stretch on forever and my body had had ENOUGH. My mind wasn't in it enough to carry me through. Today I'm rejecting those feelings and basking in the accomplishment (or trying to)!

Hi! Can't kiss your cute faces this time. I think I might collapse if I do. Must keep running!

I WAS counting on the joy that I would feel seeing my sweet family afterward and that did NOT disappoint. I love, love, love those people in my life. We put the kids in the car at 5 a.m., drove over an hour to Tukwila, nursed Ev and got kids dressed in the car while stuck in race traffic, quickly kissed my husby when we decided I would get out and walk to the start line so that they could just get back on the freeway instead of sitting in even MORE race traffic. Then Ty parked at the light rail, took it to the 3.7 mile area to cheer me on, hopped back on and met me at about 11 1/2 miles to cheer some more, then hauled them all to the finish line to scream my name. He kept Ev cool despite losing the oatmeal he was going to feed him to hold him off while I ran (we found out later that it had fallen out of the food bag in the car) AND losing his bink (I forgot to pack the bink attacher thingy). He's such an awesome dad! He keeps his cool and takes this 3-kid business in beautiful stride. I would have been a little worried about doing all of that with all three of them, but not Ty (and that's why we're having a Father's Day celebration today - last Sunday we were in the car all day and he didn't get the attention he so deserves).

My kids weren't so impressed until they saw the bling around my neck. Sweet, so you ran a race. A medal? Now THAT'S cool.

Max didn't want in on this shot...just a shot of me and my little lady. I love her guts. On a side note, these pictures make me grateful for makeup. Speaking of which, there were some heavily made-up women running the race. I can't imagine running with makeup on. But I digress...

It's over. I'm glad. I survived. I still need to lose the last 5 pounds. Now it's on to the Ragnar at the end of July! What was my 9-month-pregnant self thinking signing up for these things?!

We'll talk about my receding hair line in another post...maybe. It's what happens to me post-babe. Every time. Maybe I should run with a hat.