1 – 9:13
2 – 8:36
3 – missed it!
4 – 18:17
5 – 9:03
6 – 8:57
7 – 9:20
8 – 8:56
9 – 8:22
10 – 9:02
11 – 8:52
12 – 9:03
13 – 9:02
13.1 – 0:55
Mile 1, there was a ton of traffic. The race was bigger than I thought! I had my watch set to beep and me if I was going to fast or too slow. It wouldn’t shut up! It was set for me to go 1:55 to 1:58. We ran out 17th, and turned the corner to US1.
At Mile 2, we hit the tunnel under the New River. I hauled down the hill, dodging people the whole way. At the bottom of the tunnel were a steel drum player and a drummer! Too cool! I pushed hard up the hill, too, because I knew that the only elevation spots were here and the Las Olas bridge.
I kept trying to find a running buddy, but everyone else’s pace seemed as sporadic as mine. Mile 3 brought us on to Las Olas, and we were headed to the beach. I got fed up with my watch and turned the alerts off. I had printed out a wristband with the total time I needed at each mile to hit 1:59:59 and it became my sanity check.
The Las Olas bridge was right at Mile 4. We got hit by the 10-15mph winds out of the east, with gusts to 25. It’s been windy lately, so I was expecting it. I pushed harder.
The miles went by really quickly, which was great. Mile 7 was slow – it was the last mile before the turnaround on A1A. I picked it up for the turnaround and kept telling myself I was on the home stretch… even though it was 4.5 miles!
At one point, I caught up to a sub-2 pace from the gun time (which was displayed at all of the mile markers). I liked that, and tried to hang on to it.
I FINALLY saw the Mile 10 sign, and knew I had about a half hour to run the last 5k. No big deal, I could do it!
Mile 11 is where the hurt set in. The miles stopped flying by, and started slowly creeping past. I knew if I could hang on, I could go sub-2:00. But, I hurt.
I picked up a running buddy for a bit, but ditched him when he slowed down at an aid station. I had two miles to go – slowing down for Powerade and water was not an option.
I hit mile 12, and the complusive distance-checking set in. I probably looked at how far I had left to go at least a dozen times. “I can suffer for 1.1 more miles… I can suffer for 1.0 more miles… Only .8 to go, I can hold on…”
Those thoughts continued until I could FINALLY see the finishers chute. People started sprinting past me, but I didn’t care. They didn’t run the rest of the race hard enough, obviously ;).
I ran across the finish line and didn’t want to walk anymore. I slowly hobbled to the volunteers handing out medals, and out of the chute.