Scheduled maintenance. For cars, it's every 3000 miles. For me, every 500. Here I am approaching my 500th mile, with my list of wear and tear growing longer by the day. Let's talk about my toenail, which has been falling off since February. That's the kind of thing you don't know about when you start running, but then you find out the hard way. Apparently, it's kind of a status thing, to run enough to start losing your toenails. There is even a running shirt that proclaims, "Toenails are for sissies". Well, clearly I no longer fall into the sissy category, because I am down to 9 at this point.
The question is, will my body be able to hold out for another race with so many little things subtly asking me for attention. Well, here's a good chance to find out: The Marine Corps Historic Half Marathon in Fredericksburg, VA. I envisioned how I would entertain myself for an evening if I got a hotel in Fredericksburg. It goes a little something like this: 1. Me checking into a hotel 2. Crickets chirping. I opted for plan B, which is to save money on a hotel and just get up at the crack of dawn and drive the 1.5 hours to the race. That's money saved that I can put towards my wish list: a Garmin GPS watch. So, looks like I'll be getting up at 4 a.m. and running a little sleep deprived for this race as well.
The comical highlight of this race, besides the collosal Jelly Belly Sport Bean spill at the fuel station (like running through a field of marbles), was the ultra-hip, environmentally-friendly racing bibs. Not only did these new bibs contain a built in timing chip, they were also made from recycled-esque paper and contained, get this, real flower seeds. Apparently, after the race you could soak your bib in water, plant it in your yard, and grow a flower garden. Way cool! Since the race bibs were a new prototype, the organizers of the race provided us with back up D-tags for our shoes, so all the racers would be double-chipped. A wise decision, since the Plant-a-Bib manufacturers did not take into consideration that biodegradable bibs would begin to disintegrate when they got wet and sweaty. The race course was littered with literally hundreds of bibs that had dissolved and fallen off their runners. Some racers who were determined to hold onto their numbers carried them in their hands, or stuffed them into their hydration belts or running shorts. I managed to keep mine on during the race by re-pinning it on the go, six or seven times. I crossed the finish line with my number, but I was definitely bleeding by that point.
Sleep deprived as I was, there was not much else I remember about this race except hills, hills, hills. Fortunately, the most giant intimidating hill was a long climb around a hospital, so I did feel like I had the option of collapsing, as I would be well cared-for. I contemplated stopping off to donate some blood, as I am O-negative, the universal donor, and had already lost about a pint of blood from repinning my race bib. It would have been a nice rest during that hill from hell anyway. But in the name of a respectable race time, I ultimately decided to keep running.
At the finish line, I got a big reward for my efforts, as a Marine put my finisher's medal around my neck. There were a lot of Marines at the finish, which was quite a reward in itself. I treated myself by waiting in the long line to get a medal from one of the really cute ones. Afterwards, I grabbed a finisher's photo with George Washington himself (it was the Historic Half Marathon, after all). The Marines are an impressive group. How do they get up so early without yawning?
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