So, a few weekends ago, I ran a race. Imma tell you all about it.

I think that picture alone illustrates perfectly Domino’s enthusiasm about my race reports, or, really, anything dealing with me in general. I really didn’t need to caption it, but I did.

So, I’ve been moved to days, which is sort of crappy for someone who likes to sleep until noon.

Yes. Absolutely. Let’s do that, yes.

In case you were wondering, and I KNOW YOU WERE, Butters loves everything about me. I don’t know if that is clear through my race reports, but there is a general truth to Domino’s hatred. Not at all when it comes to Butters. If I could leave Frank tomorrow and turn Butters into a man and marry him, I might think about it.

Oh, alright. Probably not. I wouldn’t imagine cats, even shape-shifted into humans, would be good kissers.

So, anyway, sleep. I love it. However, working day shift and being forced to wake up around 6am every day to get my runs in before work means that doing so on a race day isn’t very painful at all. It also means we can get on the road faster and maybe make little trips out of these races.

This idea excited me, so I consulted my Erie Experts, Kristin and Juli.

I like how, in that picture, Elena is seemingly stomping on the back of my dress.

It turns out that they have THINGS TO DO in Erie. SO WE DID THEM.

We showed up around 11:30 and I picked up my packet. I did a bit of shopping, too, since it was in a store. I was ready to NOT do that, because we are trying to redo our kitchen and these things take money, but I saw a shirt I had seen before and wanted…and it was on sale.

BLAST.

That Sport-Wash shit does wonders, I’m just telling you. Also I love those socks. Also that shirt is a small and maybe that was a poor choice but they did not have a medium so I guess it’s a good thing I’m back on the Eating Healthy bandwagon these days.

I was a little “meh" picking up my shirt, because for the last two years, it’s been the same shirt. An AWESOME shirt. But same. Not so this year! And it’s cute!

Hooray! Something I’d actually wear!

So, after picking up my shit, we headed to Sara’s. If you have been to Erie and NOT eaten at Sara’s, you are doin’ it wrong. I mean, their food is delicious, but it’s mostly about this:

Frank is all “ALRIGHT, TAKE THE PICTURE."

But before we met Kristin/Juli there, we decided to walk on the beach for a few minutes because that seems to be something people DO? We don’t really know because we don’t like leaving our house a lot.

So, that happened.

Then we ate. Then we checked Frank into the hotel, where he took a nap and worked on some Important Person Work Stuff while Juli and Kristin and I got our Claytopia on.

If you have one of these (types of things) in your area, GO. It was so much fun! I made a travel mug, three tiny kitties, a yarn bowl, and a wine stopper, all for like $50. I’m trying to get Sandy Pance to go to a similar type place near us, because I’m so hooked.

So, after we painted a buncha stuff, we headed to dinner at Serafini’s, and it was amazing. We tried polenta, which was really interesting and delicious. After we were uncomfortably full, we headed back to the hotel (which was very nice—it was the La Quinta, and I want to remember that so I can go back there next time) and went to sleep.

BUT THAT IS NOT THE END OF THE STORY.

Friends, it was Roar at the Shore this same weekend. Which means 957,000 of my closest biker buds decided to also stay at our hotel. Where we were on the ground floor. Right by the lobby. Facing the front of the hotel.

Ok, so this was the next day, and this was only a few of them. But. YOU GET THE POINT. Because motorcycles are normally not like “Oh, hey, excuse me, I’m just a motorcycle, passing through, would you mind?" They are more like “I AM A MOTHER FUCKING MOTORCYCLE, IMMA BLOW THROUGH YOUR BRAIN."

So, I may be exaggerating.

But I did wake up a few times. Still, it’s the first race in a long, long time that I didn’t have to take something to put me to sleep at Old Person Time because I’m now used to going to sleep at Old Person Time. So, it worked out ok.

We got up the next day and Frank shuttled me to the race. I always get into the line for the bathrooms, even if I don’t have to go, because I guess that’s just what runners do. I ran into Lynn and Emily while walking to the line, and I felt sort of bad because I wanted to talk to them, but I was also aware of the growing line. I’m glad I left when I did because I was out of the bathroom at the 2-minute warning.

I got in line somewhere around the 8-minute mile mark. I mean, I knew I wasn’t going to run an 8-minute mile. Like. Ever. But, it was sort of the only place I could get in, and also, lots of people line up wrong all the time, so I was just joining the masses. Right?

I know, I have guilt about it.

Anyhoodles.

The gun went off and I went about my merry way. The first bit of every race is normally a little bit of “WHAT IS HAPPENING I DO NOT UNDERSTAND LEGS." But this one is especially weird, because it’s a little tight at the beginning, then there’s a dog leg, which is irritating, then it thins out a bit.

Something else about this race is that, while the breeze is amazing off of the lake, the course is almost entirely shaded, and the views are amazing, you can pretty much leave your garmin at home. Because it’s useful to give you mile splits, I suppose, but for glancing down to check your pace, it’s not so great, because of all of the trees. After the first three miles, I figured I’d just kind of not care as long as my mile splits were under 9:45 (which would be a PR).

Mile 1: 9:21
Mile 2: 9:14
Mile 3: 9:14

Then THAT happened. I sort of panicked a bit after that and tried to slow down, but when I’d do that, my Garmin would tell me I was going over 10:00, so after 5-6 miles I had really had enough of the horseshit.

Yup.

Mile 4: 9:24
Mile 5: 9:26
Mile 6: 9:34

At this point, I was pretty sure I was unwisely running fast and I should stop and go home, but maybe eat some frozen yogurt first. But I didn’t.

Mile 7: 9:19
Mile 8: 9:20
Mile 9: 10:04 (Water stop)

Somewhere around this point in the race, there is a short stretch where it’s open and sunny and straight. I hate this part.

Mile 10: 9:19
Mile 11: 9:16
Mile 12: 9:25
Mile 13: 9:35

At this point, I knew it was a PR. I knew I was happy about it. I knew my ankle hurt. I knew I wanted frozen yogurt.

Mile 13.1: 8:15

And I was done. But. Not before some super AWESOME RACE PHOTOS!

Am I dead? I feel dead.

Almost certainly dead.

No words. None.

BUT! PR! My previous run was Pittsburgh in 2:08x, and this one was JUUUUUST under 2:04. WILL I EVER RUN A SUB 2? EVER? IF SO, CAN I QUIT IMMEDIATELY AFTER?

Anyway. At the end of the race, that moment that all racers live for had happened upon me. I was about to be anointed with my 13th Half Marathon Medal.

Instead, I was handed this horseshit:

THIS WILL NOT DO.

It’s nice. That’s fine. It’s more practical than a medal, even. I throw those towels over my treadmill and use them frequently. But. I want shiny things.

Despite this development, I drank 87 cups of water and found Frank wandering around looking both unimpressed and bored. I sat down, basically in EVERYONE’S WAY (You are welcome, sir.), and stretched. When the girl next to me caught me staring at her and copying her stretches, she gave me a pointer or two. I tried it, but then I started watching a nearby dog chew on a stick and I got distracted.

No, baby. I did not. But someday. SOMEDAY. I will have a little bulldog smooshy-faced jackass looking dog. And everyone will love it.

Seriously, that is a photo Frank sent me of his lap. THERE IS NO MORE ROOM ON THAT LAP.

Alright. Well, our dog days are well in the future (like, about the time when our first-born child is old enough to both walk and feed said dog), so no one needs to get upset about it.

We made our way back to the hotel. On the way back, Domino’s favorite song came on, and this made me immeasurably happy.

Domino loves it when I sing this to him.

I mean, can I just say again how indifferent he feels about me? Really. Then, there’s this:

Like. Don’t let me interrupt your bromance, dudes. FFS.

Anyway, we then went and met Juli, Kristin, Emily, and Lynn for post-race feasts at…some BBQ place. Famous Dave’s BBQ, I think, maybe. It was sort of amazing. The appetizer was the best part, actually. But, don’t get me started on BBQ places that use pigs in their logos. CREEPERS.

Then we ate magical yogurt at Menchie’s.

Then we went home.

Updated race rack:

And yes, when you don’t give me a medal, bitches, I make my own:

GHETTO FAB.

When I got home, I REALIZED I CAME IN FOURTH IN THE FAT PERSON 2 CATEGORY.

IF ONLY I WOULD HAVE BEEN IN FAT PERSON 3 CATEGORY, I WOULD HAVE WONNNNNN.

By “Fat Person" categories, by the way, I am completely sarcastically referring to the fact that their “Athena 1" is 130-144 pounds, “Athena 2" is 145-159 pounds, and “Athena 3" is 160+. SERIOUSLY? 130 POUNDS? So, last year, I started putting myself in there, just to see what would happen because 1) they don’t weigh you and 2) who cares? My goal for next year is to come in top 3. Except my other goal is to be Athena 1, so those bitches be (probably) fast, and so who knows? Not me. Also, maybe I’ll retire. I don’t know.

Also! First race as Stacey Purpura!

Exciting. Stacey Purpura’s faster than Stacey Caine was. But her age is wrong, because she’s 29.

So, that is that. Next race is in the same place—the Biggest Loser Half Marathon on the same course. I predict it will be a hot mess.

I give this an A+ for cats and humor. Nice job on the PR!

Awesome PR, Awesome report, awesome way of doing it and love the images.

That 13.1 shirt "half the distance, twice the fun" should also have an extra small but eh a small works well too.

My small is more like a medium, I ordered it online though and I guess they didn't have x-small at the time. That's what I meant. 

 

Um. Whut? Yeah, there was an extra small at the store. I don't get this sentence.

Sorry  too much coffee and a little wiggleworm in my lap (my son). And I'm not sure if we've met, but you will come to know that my words on the net do not always make sense, but they make sense in my head 

OOOOH ok. Yeah, I was like "Words. Her words are not in the right order to make sense inside my brain."

Always love your race reports!  Congrats on the PR and thanks for the info.  I hope to do this one some year.

I wondered where the PR medal came from til I scrolled down to the next pic.  

That'll teach them behotches!!!

Could you write my race reports?  OH...and congrats on the HM.  Looks like a cool course, with some cool swag.  What is up with those Athena categories though?  Starting at 130?  I think that would put Kate Upton as an Athena.