64th Half Marathon
ERA of WTF… Joy and Resistance
I’ve been going back and forth with myself about whether I should run a half marathon. I’m a bit race-rusty. My last one was the Cap City Half Marathon in Columbus, Ohio back in April. Since then, it’s been all recovery mode for this knee of mine—degenerating meniscus, worn cartilage, PT, acupuncture, less running, more strength training, lots of elliptical and bike work. So I wanted to test myself and see where I stood. And what better way to do that than to sign up for a Jingle Bell Half Marathon in December… in 27-degree weather.
The week leading up to the race—post-Thanksgiving—I tried to be mindful and act like a “getting-ready-to-run” runner. But what had happened was… I may have over-holidayed. My friend invited me to a free dinner at Capital Grille and tickets to the Pops. And babyyyy… the drinks and the beef were flowing. Thank God I took the T. That was Thursday. It took me two days to recover. That brings us to race weekend. But unlike the young folks who might’ve called in sick, my Gen X ass showed up to work, got it done, and looked rough doing it. Shoutout to my Gen Xers.
Getting Race Ready
Saturday I tried to behave—drank water, ate the right things, kept it simple. Less fiber, more white carbs: potatoes and bread. Didn’t even have a drink, which is wild because I always used to have one before a big race. But we’re easing back in.
SUNDAY — Race Day
Clothes laid out. Bib pickup done Saturday. Snow on the ground. That New England cold hit different in Haverhill, Massachusetts.
I knew I didn’t need a ton of layers—just add 10 degrees to whatever the weather is and that’s how hot my body gets once I’m running.
So here I am, surrounded by 1,900 runners decked out in red and holiday gear. Me? Black and white Black Girls Run hat, red cold-weather top. On brand.
It had been a minute since I felt true race-day excitement. The last one was the Boston 10K for Women in October, and I felt strong for that one. The 5K Turkey Trot in November was just for fun, but I did well.
But this? A half marathon again? A new challenge. Would my old friend remember me, and would she still like me?
I lined up behind the 2:20 pacers—seemed like a good test of strength and pacing.
The course was a loop with a lot of elevation. Not my favorite setup, but we move.
Fuel vest on. Earbuds in. For the first 5K I stayed right behind the pacers. Felt good. Part of me wanted to speed up and pass them, but I stayed disciplined.
After the 5K loop back to the start, we headed out for the rest of the race. Two pacers, chatting away—I could hear everything, so I knew I was close. First water stop, they didn’t stop. I did. But I caught up easily. Still feeling strong.
Around mile 5, I saw a few people with signs—and that’s when it happened.
NO BIB
There was a woman holding a funny sign about us running better than the government. Cute, right? She had a German Shepherd next to her. I thought, “Oh, that would be a cute picture.”
Well… that dog lunged at me and bit my leg.
I didn’t feel it at the time. The owner looked horrified. A few runners asked if I was okay. I thought I was—figured my running tights were thick enough to block it.
Fast forward to the finish line: no bib. A hole in my tights. Safety pins
Well… fast forward to the finish line, and I realized I didn’t have my bib number. There was a hole in my tights, and the safety pins were still hanging on. I couldn’t understand what happened to my bib—then it hit me. Mother. Fucker.
…moving on.
After the dog incident, I tried to catch back up to my pace group. I even stopped to take a couple more pictures along the way. As long as I could still see them, I felt okay. But that little pause slowed me down more than I realized. I started feeling tired. I took a Gu to refuel and got myself moving again. I managed to stay with them until about mile 6, but then I just couldn’t keep up anymore. The fatigue hit. I knew I hadn’t fueled or hydrated properly.
So I shifted gears and went into my 3:1 intervals—run for three minutes, walk for one.
The course was a bit hilly but honestly beautiful and scenic. My energy levels just weren’t where they needed to be.
At that point, my focus was simply on finishing and not being in pain. And you know what? It was good.
Seeing the Boston running crew, LiveFit Army, cheering at the finish line made me so happy. Now I know exactly what to do for next time.
My Garmin showed a 2:40 finish time—the slowest I’ve ever run a half. But this is the beginning of the build-up. The comeback starts here.
