Fate and the Missing Half

For the last 8 weeks or so, I’ve been training to run a half marathon.

I know what you’re thinking, if someone can run 100 miles, why would they need to prepare for 13.1? Trust me, they are NOT one and the same.  Lord have mercy.

Ultras I can typically survive with some redbull and shuffly ultra legs, but halves require me to actually do real workouts– things like track work, intervals, treadmill runs, and tempo sessions. Real runner stuff.

So I did the work, and I was so excited to return to a favorite race of mine, the Run The Reagan Half where I’d previously hit my lowly little PR of 1:33.  I knew with just a few short weeks of training I wasn’t going to be breaking any of my own records, but I wanted to find a starting point to continue training for a later Spring half.

I signed up for the run, and excitedly penciled in the date of the race in my calendar: Saturday, February 25th. My sweet, innocent, loving, always 100% right husband watched me write down the event and said, “Saturday? Run the Reagan is always a Sunday race! You sure it’s not Sunday?”

And I, what with my fully trusting [and often lacking in self confidence] brain said, “Oh. Is it? Maybe I wrote it down wrong!” I proceeded to X out my happy little 13.1 calendar doodle complete with confetti, and marked an arrow to the following day, without ever confirming otherwise. Big mistake.

Saturday the 25th,

I woke up early to meet a friend for a little yogging, and glimpsed a text from my friend Beth Presten who was also doing The Reagan, “I’m soooo nervous!”

Weird. I thought. Why is Beth texting me this early about how nervous she is for tomorrow? Oh well….Runners. 

“Don’t be girl! You’re super prepared!” I responded, as I rushed out the door to meet my friend. I shoved my phone in my jacket, and went about my morning. It wasn’t until around 8:45 that I finally pulled the thing out of my pocket and saw a slew of texts from Beth,

“Didn’t you want to do a warm up together?”

“I’m over here by the port-a-potties, where are you?!”


I picked up the phone in a panic, “Is this a joke?!…Stop. THE RACE IS SERIOUSLY TODAY?! WAIT. When does it start?! 10 minutes? I’m 30 minutes away!”

So, what happened next is really inspiring.

Just kidding. I hung up and started crying like a baby.

Actually, first, I called Daniel and blamed all of it on his poor soul, and THEN I started crying. I came home, locked myself in the bathroom for 2.5 hours and cried some more. Then I ate roughly 3 little debbies I found in Brooklyn’s bookbag, and…umm… cried some more. I don’t know if they fit my macros, but… They fit my heart.

It was actually pretty pathetic.

Truthfully, it was no one’s fault but my own, but Daniel being the incredible sport that he is, allowed me to blame every last bit of the whole debacle on him. Which always helps. Thanks, Dan. #DansFault (<– A hashtag we started several years ago for all humans to have the opportunity to blame any and all of their life problems on my husband. I was already doing it anyway, so Dan figured why not help carry the load for the rest of the world, too… Such a good man.)


after I finally emerged from the bathroom looking like a drowned rat, I downed 32oz of coffee and found some resolve: “I’LL NEVER MISS A RACE AGAIN.” I lamented. For a visual, it was basically that scene from Gone With The Wind when Scarlett pulls up some of the earth and cries, AS GOD IS MY WITNESS, I’ll NEVER GO HUNGRY AGAIN! Maybe a little more intense, and with chocolate on my face. And smeared mascara.


After that I spent the afternoon googling races that actually really did take place on Sunday the 26th. I found one nearby, the Suwanee Georgia Fitness Half Marathon, but it had all kinds of hills, and what not. Considering roughly 90% of my training had been done on treadmill and track, I was, umm… not feelin’ that one. (*COUGH* PANSY *COUGH*) But I didn’t really feel like driving to Florida and back over the course of 24 hours for a flat one, so I relented. Fiiiiiiiine. Fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. FINE.

But the race was full,

Lord Jesus, please get me into this race! PLEASE! Sorry for griping about hills. No, I’m, not actually.. but…for real though., PLEASE?!  Don’t tell me I ate all of that pasta for nothing, Jesus. 

Whew. Thank God for my dear friend Beth McCurdy doin the Lord’s handy work. Beth pulled some strings with her friend Ralph at the local running store, Classic City Running, who pulled even more strings with Georgia Fitness who agreed to allow Beth and me to jump in on their race last minute. THANK YOU, everyone. Good and kind people are everywhere.

Race morning,

I made sure not to meet a friend for a yog, and this time jumped out of bed ready to attack a race. I met up with my fellow 100 mile junkie and day saver, Beth McCurdy for some giggles and selfies and such.img_20170226_065722_937

It would seem us runner folk are a bit more smiley when we’ve got 13 miles instead of 100 looming over our heads.

The route was stupid hilly, but the race itself was amazingly orchestrated and very well put together. Which is great, because I wasn’t! My garmin was off about .3 per mile, so I just ran the thing mostly blind. I ended up hitting 6:40s early on. Oops. Yeah… was not capable of that on such a hilly course!  However, I maintained a decent pace anyway, and finished the race in 1:38. Not a PR, but apparently good enough for 5th overall and 3rd female. I was happy with that! (Thanks for staying home, fast girls!) 20170226_090524

So the weekend ended up pretty okay! I guess for whatever reason, God just wanted me to stay away from Run The Reagan and do Georgia Fitness Half instead. It was fate. At least that’s what I keep telling myself, because the truth that I’m just a cotton-headed-ninny-muggins still isn’t sitting well with me.

So, yeah! That’s my story, and I’m stickin’ to it!

HAVE A GREAT WEEK GUYS!!! Thanks for reading! If you’ve ever missed a race, you have to let me know so I don’t feel like a complete and total loser.:-P  XOXO- Ash


7 Replies to “Fate and the Missing Half”

  1. Great work! My half PR is 1:45 and I’m hoping to smash that one day soon. Also, how can one ultrarunner look so effing glamorous for a race? Really? Teach me your ways beautiful girl!! 😉

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