Monday Wrap Up: Country Music Half Marathon Race Report and the Wrath of Mother Nature

When I woke up on Saturday morning, the first thing I thought to myself was "this is early." The next things were, in quick succession:

"My head is heavy."

"My mouth is dry."

"What is moving inside my stomach?"

"Where is my credit card?"

And then it started to come back to me: the beer in the airport bar, going to the race expo, the beer at the Wild Horse Saloon bar, sampling the barbecue sauce, seeing the platter of pulled pork, the beers at the dinner table... I was in Nashville, and it was time to race.

I guess I should start at the beginning, and this story begins with an ominous message from above. Literally, from the sky. Or at least, from the people who look at the sky, and maybe some maps of the sky, and something called a doppler which could just be a synonym for "sky." In any case, as I checked the forecast for my weekend in Nashville, I was greeted with this warning:

THIS IS THE STRONGEST STORM SYSTEM TO AFFECT MIDDLE TENNESSEE SO FAR THIS SPRING... AND THE POTENTIAL FOR SEVERE WEATHER LOOKS TO BE INCREASINGLY LIKELY... INCLUDING TORNADIC SUPERCELLS.

Now I've lived my whole life in the Northeast, so I've never heard the term "tornadic supercells" before, but I was willing to bet they weren't going to make for the most ideal of race conditions. Nonetheless, I headed to LaGuardia on Friday afternoon to board a flight to the aforementioned Middle Tennessee. But not before having a beer. It was technically vacation, after all:

First beer in 9 weeks. If that's what it takes to be a two-time Boston qualifier, I'm not sure I'm up for it...

Once safely in Nashville on Friday evening and fully armed with race bibs, tech t's, Gu's, and Powerbars, we met up with Lizzie - in from Chicago to run her first half marathon. We headed to the Wild Horse Saloon for dinner and a little live music in an authentic Tennessean establishment. While Lizzie sipped water, we prepared her for her inaugural 13.1: the course is relatively flat, I told her. No major hills, maybe one little climb around mile 6. Lots of music and spectators, so it'll be totally easy. We're lucky, in fact, that it won't be sunny - that'll keep it from getting too hot. I drained my beer and ordered another as we headed to the table for our meal.

If it's a beer brand welcoming you to a race, I think you're pretty much obligated to drink beer to get ready for said race. That's probably in that participant waiver somewhere...

I don't know if anyone's ever put this is writing before, but barbecue isn't necessarily the best pre-race meal. Sure, with something like a chicken sandwich, you get both protein and carbs, and add a side of fries for that to get more carbs (and deliciousness!). But if you're eating a straight up plate of meat like some members of our party who shall remain nameless (hint: it's I-man), you might wind up not feeling so hot later. If I'm remember correctly, I believe his exact complaint was that it felt like the pig he ate was trying to reassemble itself in his stomach. Then he asked if the beer pavilion would be at the finish line or the start.

As I mentioned, I wasn't feeling outstanding myself when I woke up on race morning, but I got dressed and headed out to meet Lizzie for the walk to the start in Centennial Park. The starting line was about a mile from the hotel and took us about 15 minutes to walk, during which time I endured some significant GI discomfort. From walking. 1 mile. As I contemplated the 13.1 miles of running that lay ahead of me, I just knew this was going to be the greatest race of my life...

Because of the continued threatening weather conditions, the race started 15 minutes early. This was not well advertised. As my last name begins with a W (fun fact: my name isn’t really 3:59:59. Bitches.), I had to haul ass down to the far end of the alphabetical gear check. By the time we got to the start, the first dozen corrals had already crossed the line. I-man was meant to be in corral 1 (show off). I was in corral 5. We both lined up with corral 18. I briefly considered sprinting to a porta potty. I-man said “some people smell like dogshit.” I wondered if perhaps the GI issues had gotten the best of me. They had not, thankfully, but I was out of time to evaluate the likelihood that they might eventually, because we started running.

The first mile was a wide stretch of roadway that sort of undulated with hills. When the Garmin beeped at the mile mark, I considered it a victory that I’d run an 8:30 and not pooped in my shorts - hooray! By the time we got to mile 3, I said to I-man, “this course sucks.” He said “I know. I thought you were just trying to make Lizzie feel better and not nervous about the race. This course is all hills.” I’m sorry, Lizzie. I swear to you I did not remember this. Otherwise I probably wouldn’t have consumed 3 beers and a gallon of barbecue sauce the night beforehand.

By mile 4, my stomach had gone from eminently problematic to mildly threatening, and I was able to get into a comfortable stride. As we progressed, the course continued to feature both long slow climbs and short up and down stretches, and was crowded the entire way, requiring a lot of wasted energy spent passing people, particularly on uphill stretches. Crowd support was solid for almost the entire course, with lots of spectators holding signs that said things like “Get runnin’, there’s a storm coming!” and “What tornado?” On the downside, much of the music – while extensive – was more rock than country. Not to get particular about it, but it is the Country Music Marathon, people… I was also frustrated by the flow of traffic at water stations: lots of people pulling in, grabbing a cup, and then blocking access for those of us behind. That said, the volunteers were among the best I’ve ever experienced – so friendly and supportive! Made me feel like a hardened New York bitch by comparison.

By mile 11 I was ready to be done. The balls of my feet were really sore, and I was expecting to find them completely raw and blistered when I took my shoes off at the finish. As we passed the turnoff for the marathon, where an Elvis impersonator directed us into our designated lanes, I was delighted that I hadn’t signed up for the full again this year. I was unhappy, however, that I was on the wrong side of the street and missed the folks passing out beers.

I-man goaded me into finishing in 1:55:48 (and I kindly repaid him by stepping over the line 1 second faster than him. It’s cut throat out there, bitches!) – not a PR, but a perfectly respectable time all things considered. We snaked through the finish area, snagging bagels and bananas and waters and shunning Cytomax and headed to the family reunion area.

Here is a secret I will share with you if you promise not to take it as your own: at family reunion areas after races, instead of going to W for my last name, I go to X. Because X marks the spot. Also, because who’s last name starts with X? Logic would dictate that there would be few people waiting in the X area because there are few people with X names, ipso facto, it’s easier to find your party. Unfortunately at the Country Music Half, W and X were in the same meeting area, which kind of took the fun out of it since I’d have been there anyway if I’d stuck to the rules. Anyway, I-man and I got our gear, changed into dry clothes, and waited for Lizzie to finish. And then it started to rain…

At first, it seemed like a passing shower, and after a couple of minutes with my hood pulled up, the wet weather subsided. Perhaps that is what people mean by the calmness at the eye of the storm (I think I heard about that watching Twister or something...). In any case, the break in the weather didn't last long, and pretty soon we were standing in an open field filled with metal stakes (damn you, family reunion area signage!) in one of the most torrential thunderstorms I've ever been in. And Lizzie was nowhere in sight.

As I started to mentally compose my script for calling Lizzie's parents to tell them I'd let her get sucked into a vortex during her first ever half marathon, I spied her, soaking wet, headed to X. Poor Lizzie had to tough it out on the course in the storm, all the while being told by police officers to hurry it up because a tornado was about to touch down. Probably not the most soothing of first half marathon experiences... But we hardly had time to dwell on it, as the tornado threat was serious enough that the full marathon was stopped and the runner's not yet finished diverted to safety. That. Sucks!

On the plus side, the race drama certainly didn't ruin our time in Nashville; in fact, we quickly found a local brewery and sampled their wares to settle our nerves! After showers and naps, we were revived enough to resume gorging on Southern foods, drinking real live American beers, and rocking out to live music. The perfect end to a not-so-perfect race (or it would have been, if our flight home Sunday night hadn't been 5 hours late, including a diversion to Richmond, VA, where we sat on the Tarmac for 2 hours while LaGuardia grounded all flights in and out of the airport. Did I mention there was no food on the plane, and that by the time I crawled into bed sometime after 2:30am, I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast? But let's focus on the positive...).

Let's go to the wrap up!

Number of Miles Run This Week: 22. Hey, did I mention that, while my knee hurt for the first half of the half on Saturday, it seemed to have corrected itself by the end? Same thing happened during the Surf City Marathon. My body is a healing machine!

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: What's 13 plus 3- twenty four oz cans of Bud Light? That's how many beers I had this week.

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: Some Blue Moons (it's like summer in the South in April), some Bud Lights, some Bud Light with Limes (this beer tastes like poison. Not enough to prevent me from ordering a second, but still really, really bad), and 2 of Nashville's finest: Sweet Magnolia Brown Ale, make at Big City Brewery in downtown Nashville.

Since I slept for approximately 4 hours last night, I'm going to turn in early tonight. But before I go, here's one last image from this weekend:

I look pretty happy for a girl who survived a half marathon under threat of tornadoes and self defecation, eh?