On Sunday I ran the Dexter-Ann Arbor half marathon (DX-A2)! In my goal time of under two hours (1:56:44) and feeling good.
It all came together: enough training, perfect weather, and good strategy in terms of pace, nutrition, etc. I even got a bib number that was an omen of good fortune: 777. Going into the race, my longest run ever had been 10 miles just a couple weeks earlier. This Sunday was the longest run of my life.
It was hard to pick a pace target to aim for. An online calculator suggested that based on some old Turkey Trot 5K times, I could run 13.1 miles in 1:12:00, and I’m more fit now than I was in those races. On the other hand, most of my training mileage was at speeds of 10-10:30 per mile, so it seemed like a stretch to think I could maintain 8:35/mile for two hours. In the end, I shot for the classic target of sub-2 hours, and I’d felt good running big chunks of my long runs at that pace.
I didn’t want to go out too fast and jeopardize my chances of finishing, but it turns out I could have sped up. The race felt surprisingly easy, which felt bizarre then and still feels strange to type. I chatted with one of the 9:00/mi pacers during miles 6-12, agreeing around mile 10 that based on how I felt I should speed up in the last mile. My pace over my last 1.1 miles was more like 8:15/mi, uphill.
I knew this race was a big deal for me, but I was surprised by how many friends and family encouraged me, and how much that meant to me. My wife and kids cheered me at the finish line (“daddy you ran so far, good job!”); my extended family asked questions and gave me props as I trained; my friends at the office and online congratulated me; and tons of strangers along the course shouted encouragement. Especially when I can look at runners who run faster and longer and think, maybe this wasn’t a big deal, it’s validating that friends and family show love.