On an unrelated note, I want to mention the other reason I signed up for the Lima 21K: RACE DAY. For PCVs in Peru, there are a lot of things that we miss out on. Things like sporting events, weddings, holidays, birthdays, hometown events, college town rituals, music festivals, and more are missed and mourned by volunteers all the time. Somethings, like the Super Bowl and St. Patrick's Day, can be enjoyed here in Peru, but it's not quite the same. For me, one of my favorite things that I have been missing out on was not only possible for me to enjoy in Peru, but it was better: RACE DAY. What's better than a race day sponsored by Adidas in a giant city? And, how cool is it to run a half while in Peru? For me, Race Day alone is marvelous. So great that I have to capitalize it when I gush about it in print ;) There is no other way to get the rush of excitement, anxiety, and adrenaline that race day brings. Lucky for me, race day came in Lima on May 20th.
This race is something I had been preparing for during the past few months. I say 'preparing' because I wasn't exactly 'training.' I mean, I maintained a fitness level I was happy with and I put down the miles I needed to in order to run a half marathon. But did I push myself or go out of my way to try to set a new personal record? Nope. With the desert heat and a hectic Peace Corps schedule, I had a hard time adhering to as strict of a training schedule as I had wanted. But, keeping in mind the goal of running a half without a lot of training, I went for it anyway. I almost backed out and switched to the 10K at the last minute. But motivation came in the form that it often does--- from Sue Song. When I told her I wasn't feeling ready for a half, her response was, "Oh, really? In my head you can run half marathons in your sleep!" Hmmm, sounds kind of like rolling out of bed and running a half. Thanks Sue Song. You don't know how awesome you are.
Race Day came along and I felt as ready as I would. I figured I would run it in about 2:20, and it turns out I did exactly that, plus 30 seconds. With a final time of 2:20:30, I was satisfied. Not in the fact that I had run the slowest half in all of my running escapades so far, but for the fact that I knew myself well enough as a runner to know, almost exactly, how I would do. Taking into account the training I did- and didn't- complete, I knew pretty much right on the money how I would feel at any given point in the race. I think that's pretty cool, and an important thing to be able to do as a runner.
Onward to race day...
I was with a small group of volunteers in Lima who were all planning to run either the half or the 10K. My friend Brian and I went to the race together. And, as runners on race morning, we left for the race way before we needed to given the paranoia involved with being runners on race morning. We hopped in a cab and coasted through Miraflores comfortably while making pleasant conversation with the cab driver. It wasn't until we arrived and started to make our way through the sea of runners when I realized that I had forgotten my race bib and timing chip at the hostel. Damn. Thank God we left early. I'm not totally crazy for wanting to leave 2 hours early. I'm just a runner. Leaving essential race items in the hostel is the stuff of race-week nightmares. In fact, I had at least one dream earlier that week in which this very situation happened. It was going to be ok. It had to be. I grabbed a cab immediately and made a S/. 20 deal to get to the hostel and back as soon as possible. The cab driver was cool and understood my dilemma. I made it back to Miraflores and grabbed my stuff without incident. I still had time and all was going well... until we headed back to the starting area. Because there were about 10,000 people running in all events combined, the full started at 7:00am and the half started at 8:00am. This meant that by the time my cabbie and I made it back to the start, the full had just begun. Hence, all roads for about a half mile radius of the start were closed and being blocked by police officers. Giving credit where it is due, Mr. Cab Driver stopped to argue with the officers on two separate ramps. "Miiiirrraaaa, la señorita está tarde!" Once he realized that these attempts were futile, he got me as close as he could and wished me luck as I jumped out of the cab and began my jog to to the start. It took me about 3.4 seconds to realize that I was very very far from where I needed to be. I jogged about 3 blocks or so before I saw my opportunity: a police truck.
Now, being a white girl, and sort of blonde, I have an advantage in this country. Do I use that advantage? No. Never do I use that whole gringa thing in my favor, and never, NEVER do I use the whiny voice that everyone here speaks with when they want something. But this, my friends, was an emergency. The police truck was stopped at a red light and they were letting out one of their comrades to block that intersection. Score for me. Go time. I sprinted up to the truck and put on my best "damsel in distress" act, as much as it killed me. "Muy buennoooosss díaaaassss seññññorrreeessss!" I whined. "Un favorccciiitttoooo." It took only those words and a painful bat of the lashes for me to convince them to give me a lift. WIN. I think they were just as happy to help me out as I was happy that they came along. I would have been running for awhile just to get to the start. That police truck filled with officers was a blessing... and it was fun. They had all of these running questions for me and joking around with them was great for my pre-race nerves which had been incredibly exacerbated by my morning mishap. My favorite part was when one of the officers said, "Mejor para llegar asi que salir, no?" Better to arrive like this than leave, right? Good point, Mr. Officer. Good point.
Things after that were pretty tranquilo. Brian happens to be ridiculously tall by US standards. So by Peruvian norms, this makes him akin to the Jolly Green Giant. So after being on the starting grounds for less than 10 minutes, he was located and all was well. I downed my Power Bar race breakfast (thanks for delivering on that one, Lima), ran to the port-potty one last time, and found my spot at the start amidst the crowd.
And we're off...
This was my fourth half. Not my first rodeo. I know how this goes. And I love it. As predicted, I loved my life for the first 6 miles. Mile 6 was more of a struggle than previous miles and on mile 7 the wheels started to fall off. Miles 8-10 are always the worst, and this race was no exception. By mile 11 I was used to the struggle and lack of speed, so I just enjoyed what was going on until the speed started to pick up again, if only by a marginal amount, as it always does. And then it was over. Thank God. The combination of the uphill finish and the extra distance of the course- the race course actually measured to be 13.34 miles, on both my Garmin and Brian's- made me so ready to be done by the time the finish line rolled around. I know I shouldn't be whining about such a short extra distance, but after 13 miles, that extra little bit was annoying as hell.
While I was happy to be done at the moment, I thoroughly enjoyed this race. Not only was it the most well organized race I have ever been a part of, it was also the biggest and one of the prettiest. Lima turned out, if not in spectators, then in volunteers and race entertainers. Staying true to Peruvian form, this race offered more nourishment than usual and I can easily say I consumed more in this race than any other race before it. Between my race gels (again, thanks Lima for showing up on that one ;) and the exorbitant amount of Powerade, I'm surprised gut-rot didn't get me this time around.
Race High: Making a friend for miles 3-7ish. Caesar was a savior who kept me on pace (well, under pace for the most part) and motivated me more than a stranger should have. He slowed down with me, talked me through doubts, and even gave me a piece of the chocolate candy bar he was carrying for energy. It took me awhile to shake him off, but he finally let me slow down and lose him when I needed to. Nice guy. I really enjoy the running community and making random race friends. Thanks Race Day.
Race Low: Losing S/. 20. In a failed attempt to get a gel from my pocket, I lost the only cash I had with me in my sweaty little running pants. Not only did I drop the gel, but the S/. 20 that was probably stuck to it also fell to it's doom. I hope a nice volunteer found it before it was trampled in the crowd. I noticed the gel was lost shortly after I dropped it during a water station frenzy, but I didn't even realize the money was gone until I offered to pay for the cab back to Miraflores later that morning. Boo.
Side Notes: One of the race sponsors had pretty Limeñas dressed up in giant angel wings handing out wet sponges. Randomly awesome idea, Lima. Also, there were break dancers. Won't lie, I busted a few moves while running past. Race Day is fun.
Now the post-race coverage...
As mentioned, this event was extremely well organized. So after I finished, I found myself in a nice little line for my metal, Powerade, and free sammich. Then I somehow landed in a beautiful little running garden full of bright orange mats, stinky post-race runners in pain, and athletic trainers. It was only a matter of minutes before I was being coated in the Peruvian equivalent of Icy Hot and stretched out by a nice man who asked me in broken English, "You hurt? Where?" During my stretch-sesh, I learned that this guy was not only not a trainer, he was a Russian fashion designer volunteering alongside his wife, the trainer. Oh, Peru, I love how random you are.
After that, photos were taken, a much needed shower was had, and finally, FINALLY, my post-race beer was obtained. A healthy buzz and an unnecessarily large dose of Pinkberry followed. God I love Race Day. Garmin tells me that the race took over 1300 calories away from me. Guilt free beer AND ice cream? Yes please.
So there you have it. My not-so hard-core half marathon in all of it's glory-less, guilt-less fun. Turns out, I can roll out of bed and run a half. It's just that rolling out of bed for the next 3 days isn't quite as easy. Haha. Worth it though. Post-race aches and pains? A wonderful feeling. Race Day? A wonderful thing.
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