Tuesday, August 28, 2012

When 13.1 Counts

Before
I ran the Rock 'n' Roll Chicago Half Marathon on July 22nd.

Chicago's summer has been scorching, and thank god it wasn't 100 degrees out - but in the upper 70s and mid-80s at start, it wasn't exactly chilly.

I'd messed up my training regimen but good, peaking a month before.
I hadn't run in over two weeks, thanks to painful sunburns.
And I had an inguinal hernia, which I was scheduled to have surgery on, four days after the race. I had pledged to stop immediately if that started bothering me.

So clearly, I took it easier than I would have otherwise, and my performance, overall, sucked: 2:53:06, with a pace of 13:13/mile.
I tried to run with good form, and had moderate success there, I guess, but when finishing minutes from the three-hour mark didn't feel too great.

During the race, I felt like crap, and wanted to stop near-constantly, questioning why the hell I was doing it in the first place.
And I really did not push myself, and that's depressing.

Good thing I really didn't care much. I ran and walked the damn thing, and was glad it was over. For the first time, I tested out the new Garmin Forerunner Mary had bought me as a belated birthday gift.

But at least by not giving a damn, I got some cool pictures:


Columbus Drive, over the river
State and Wacker



State Street
Everybody walking because, you know, screw it.
And heat exhaustion.



Heading back east again.
Right after the SCREW THIS, NEVER RUNNING AGAIN moment.
I guess we're running again?
LaSalle street - AKA where The Dark Knight filmed half the movie.
Turning south. Sure, torture us some more.

Approaching McCormick Place
Back to Lake Shore Drive and the Lakefront Path
Heading south on the lake
Overheating, thank you sponge.


Nobody felt like rocking out.

On Lake Shore Drive, nearly done

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