Two weeks ago I ran my first 1/2 marathon.
I have only ever run marathons - not because I am a WICKED runner
but because it means
(in my mind)
(in my mind)
that you can run at a grandma pace for a lot longer.
And more time means more Podcasts and books on tape to listen to, right?
(killing two birds with one stone is my mantra in life)
(killing two birds with one stone is my mantra in life)
BUT
this half marathon actually killed me!
this half marathon actually killed me!
Killed me because 1) I trained only a "petit peu" but
2) I had no IDEA how to pace myself properly.
The man in the picture above is the one who saved me.
He SAVED me because we stayed together, step-by-step, in sync for the last 4 kilometres
when I wanted to vomit, wanted to stop and wanted to walk.
And even though he took off in the end,
(later he told me he could not get beat by a girl - Ugh MEN!)
he still helped me finish that LONG FINAL STRETCH.
To sum up?
Running with MEN ain't that bad - as long as you know
they are still gonna SMOKE you at the end of it all....
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?
2) I had no IDEA how to pace myself properly.
The man in the picture above is the one who saved me.
He SAVED me because we stayed together, step-by-step, in sync for the last 4 kilometres
when I wanted to vomit, wanted to stop and wanted to walk.
And even though he took off in the end,
(later he told me he could not get beat by a girl - Ugh MEN!)
he still helped me finish that LONG FINAL STRETCH.
To sum up?
Running with MEN ain't that bad - as long as you know
they are still gonna SMOKE you at the end of it all....
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?
grt
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