Fancy Little Feet: Set fire to the rain

When you know rain is in the forecast for a big race, the first thing you when you open your eyes on race day is reach over, grab your phone, and check the radar.

The second thing you do is curse like a sailor.

The third thing you do is poop.

The fourth thing you do is remember how incredible it felt to finish last year's Shamrock in horrendous conditions, and that you'll have a dear friend and bad ass mother runner by your side from start to finish this time. So the fifth thing you do is start putting on your battle gear and psyching yourself up to do work. Right after you poop again.

This race morning felt different from the get go. I slept like the dead the night before and my typical race day nausea was minimal. I ate every bite of my bagel before we even left the house and my coffee was going down nice and easy, too. A few additions to my dry bag later, Teresa was out front, ready to take me and Ryan to the oceanfront.

We were parked by just after 6am, so we waited in the warm car for about 30 minutes while we watched the rain blow sideways in the glow of the street lights. We made a quick stop at the Hilton to use the bathroom one last time, wished Ryan good luck, and high tailed it to the start. Somewhere along the way, I ditched my poncho and throw away clothes (best decision ever, right after the decision to keep my gloves in my kangaroo pocket until it was time to run) and jumped in our corral with about a minute and a half to spare. Unlike last year, I wasn't soaked to the bone before the gun even went off, so chalk one up in the win column for learning from last year's mistakes.

Just like that, we were off and running. The last thing I remember hearing the race announcer Leprechaun Bob say was "Work together!" It was exactly what I needed to be reminded of. On a day like that, where the head wind is fierce for the first few miles, it's in your best interest to tuck in with a group and let them take the brunt of it for you. Despite my tiny stature, I've always had a tough time doing that...I think I just like my space and want plenty of it when I'm working hard. There were definitely times in that first mile where I found myself drifting over to the side for some breathing room, but I heard Bob's "work together" in my head and scooted back in with the pack.

While I didn't have a goal finish time in mind for this race (other than knowing I could run faster than the 1:45 I ran last year), I had some goal paces in mind for the first half of the race. I wanted to be smart at the start and keep it near an 8 minute mile as we headed north on Atlantic Avenue for the first three miles.

Mile 1: 8:02

Mile 2: 8:01

Mile 3: 8:04*

*Thank you, brave crowd of spectators lining Atlantic Avenue at 80th Street, especially you, Kristy (and later you, Steve)!

I knew once we turned onto Shore Drive, we'd get a break from the wind and I could drop the pace a little. I didn't want to be gassed turning into Fort Story, but if I could get down to a 7:45 and hold it on Shore Drive, I thought I'd be in good shape once I got onto the Fort.

Mile 4: 7:48

Mile 5: 7:51

Somewhere just past mile 5, I took off a glove to try to get my gu open. My hands were frozen and not working well, so I made Teresa earn her keep (ha!) and asked her to open it for me. Continued for a bit with my glove partially on my hand until I could shimmy it all the way back on.

Mile 6: 7:43

We made the turn onto Fort Story and I was feeling good. I knew there'd be some tough spots until the road turned south and our tailwind kicked in, so I did my best to just hold steady.

Mile 7: 7:53

Although my pace had slowed a little, I was still feeling strong so there was no need to panic. Once we got past the section of the course that's closest to the bay (you know, the part where there is absolutely nothing to protect you from the gale force winds coming off the water or the accompanying sandstorm), the road started making its turn back to the south and that glorious tailwind gave us a nice little shove toward the exit of the base. We passed between the lighthouses and a DJ on the course was pumping some "Sympathy for the Devil," which was just enough music to refresh my brain and body (and I think that gu I nursed was finally starting to work its magic).

Mile 8: 7:37
Mile 9: 7:31*

*Not sure whether my wrist was numb or my watch was too cold to function, but I never felt it buzz for mile 9. I didn't need to know how fast I was going at this point...it was time to move.

We left the quiet base and returned to civilization...the weather kept the spectators to a minimum, but I saw Kristy again and her voice made up for everyone who stayed home that morning. She was screaming at the top of her lungs for me and her big smile powered me through that next stretch of the course.

Heading south on Atlantic is make it or break it time. It's when you really have to work hard to keep your focus as people around you start to fatigue and cramp and fall off to the side. My mental math skills were getting a little hazy, and thinking we had to be getting close to that 10 mile marker, I glanced down at my watch. 10.57 miles. Hell yeah! Teresa told me no more looking at my watch and I was happy to oblige. It was hard to read with raindrops all over the face of it, and it simply didn't matter what my pace was anymore. It was just time to fly.

Mile 10: 7:38

I think somewhere between miles 10 and 11 is when I saw Steve on his bike, making his way up to where Kristy was camped out. Once he realized it was me, he turned around and yelled at me (or maybe just said in normal Steve volume?) to "Drop the fucking hammer." Like, repeatedly.

Mile 11: 7:37
Mile 12: 7:39

This was it. Anything I had left in me was going to be left on that course. Mile 12 was literally where the gloves came off and I started to fight...my gloves were cold and wet and not doing a thing for my hands anyway, so they were thrown aside. We turned at the Cavalier and had a few more blocks til we hit the home stretch of the boardwalk. I saw Teresa check her watch a couple of times, and it was always followed by either a giggle or a "dude..." Once I was close enough to the finish to read the clock, I saw that it was ticking up and up, 1:41:54...1:41:55. Having run so many races recently where my time has seconds in the single digits, I told that clock "Not today, mother fucker!" and dug in. I wasn't hitting 1:42 after all that hard work!

Not today, mother fucker!

Mile 13: 7:17
Last 0.1: 6:38

Hammer = dropped

Turns out I didn't have to push that hard to officially come in under 1:42...my chip time was a few seconds behind the gun time, so I ended up finishing in 1:41:38. Which I find hilarious because when I started training back in December, I wrote a goal time of 1:38 on my training calendar...because seeing is achieving, right? I got my 1:38, but the running gods got jokes about how they gave it to me.

I crossed the finish line with a sweet runner's high coursing through my veins. I wanted to hug anyone and everyone, and I started with Teresa, followed by Amy Frostick (the A in J&A).

This girl...tough as nails, heart of gold

Shamrock Half Marathon #5

1:41:38 (second fastest)

Overall: 328/5445

Female: 78/3280

Female 35-39: 15/559

My dry bag truck was an eternity away, and getting changed into dry clothes was a bit of a production. But the buzz in that changing tent was electric...total strangers who had all just been through hell were smiling, laughing, and helping each other get changed. It was such an incredible thing to be a part of.

Teresa and I made our way to the tent where beer and Murphy's Irish stew awaited us. I took a glance over at the PR bell on the beach and promised it I'd be back to ring it next time (I also promised someone I'd run the Crawlin' Crab half with her this fall and PR the hell out of it after doing a shot of Fireball, but that's neither here nor there). There was zero disappointment in the outcome of this race. I finished 13.1 miles in a total shit storm of conditions with an average pace I struggled to maintain for more than 2 miles just a month ago. And I did it with one of my real life heroes by my side. Feeling pretty lucky.

60 Free St. Patrick's Day printables: