Except for needing some kind of mechanical lift to get me out of my office chair, I’m feeling pretty darned good after finishing my seventh Aramco Houston Half Marathon yesterday morning. As usual, my feet took a pounding from all the concrete, and my neck hurts from looking down so much as I tried to avoid tripping and falling.
Doing a faceplant in front of thousands of runners and spectators? Definitely not priceless.
Yesterday was a great day for running: 43 degrees at the start (plus Beatles music was being played; always a favorite); in the 50s when I finished. They call it a “no-excuses” day, but I’ve yet to meet a runner who doesn’t have a bagful of excuses ready just in case. Mine begin with “slow running DNA” and end with “didn’t train hard enough.” I seem to repeat those every year, unfortunately.
Fortunately, there were lots of noisy spectators, music, and some great signs along the course that kept us entertained as we motored along. My favorite posters read “Chafe now. Brag later.” (I did the former but not the latter.) “Run faster! He farted.” “Run a better race than Perry.” (Ha ha!) “I thought you said ‘RUM!’”
What really helped push me through the 13.1 miles along the uneven, hard Houston streets was remembering who I was running for: Sheri, Janet E., and Rob T. I mentally hoisted my gal pals on my shoulders right at the start, while Rob “joined” us at mile 10. Whenever I saw the prayer stations, I prayed for good healing vibes for my trio as well as others who I know are ailing. This really lifted my spirits!
It was an honor to run for my friends—they are true warriors. They made the pain bearable.
Of course, the finishers’ t-shirt and medal are great pain medications, too!