This Sunday I will be running in my first-ever half-marathon race. I'm excited, but also nervous, because I want to do well (read: not throw up or weep as I cross the finish line).
I've run 13 miles before, mind you, but that was ALMOST 20 YEARS AGO (yes, I'm shouting). I couldn't believe it myself, but I did the math, and it's true. I was a young girl, running cross country in high school. I am now 36. It's funny, because when I recall my high school days I think, "That wasn't long ago." Then I do some calculations and realize if I had been a teenage mother, my offspring would be old enough to vote. Scary.
But back to the race. It's in Brighton, which is a beautiful seafront city directly south of London. The last time we visited, I was heavily pregnant with Andrew and it was an unusually hot summer day. Brighton is principally known for two things: its shops and its restaurants. All I wanted to do when we went there was have a nice lunch in a small cafe followed by a browse in the shops. Unfortunately for me, Tim felt that it would be more fun to get a sandwich and sit on the beach. Once we got to the beach, we realized it was what the Brits call a "shingle beach," which means there's no soft sand there, just big smooth rocks that are NOT comfortable to sit on, particularly if you're nine months pregnant. We also didn't see the Brighton Pavilion, which is an old Victorian mansion, nor did we eat ice cream. The next day, the doctor said I had heat exhaustion, due to walking around in the hot sun the day before. Consequently, I have no fond memories of the place.
We're going to make a weekend out of it and go down on Saturday and stay the night. I picked a hotel equipped with an indoor pool, thinking it would give the boys something to do while I ran the 13.1 miles along the coastline. I'm hoping to finish in around 2 hours, but that may be overly optimistic, given that I missed a week of training two weeks ago due to illness and I haven't been able to do much this week either since Andrew is on vacation from school and he's reluctant to join me on my training runs. (I asked him the other day-- I even told him he could race me on my scooter-- but given that it was 30 degrees outside, he wanted to stay home).
I am then considering this a "rest week", which will hopefully help when it is race time on Sunday.
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