Seeing how close to my home the Raleigh (Holiday) Half Marathon, this year’s USATF and RRCA State Championship, took place on December 4, 2021, and I would not have to drive for hours as I do for most races, I could not justify opting out and registered only a couple of days prior to the event. Until recently, its course formed a combination of several routes I take when casually running; thus, without the course change last year, I likely would have skipped. I would have preferred colder, but the morning still felt semi-ideal for a 13.1-miler.

I kept my pace consistent and pushed harder whenever I saw my Garmin pace slow down, often catching me off guard because I felt no sign of fatigue. I had forgotten about the short but steep climb that awaited a mile and a half to go, and I adamantly ran the whole section and exerted a significant amount of energy, which impacted the rest of my race; in hindsight, I may have walked this hill. Several runners and I often swapped places, and I continued to encourage them to keep moving and oddly even hoped they would pass me, which rarely happens towards the end of my race because I generally sprint and myself do the passing. Three different participants told me post-race I helped them, indirectly saying they used me as a pacer, which was flattering. I expected to run faster than a 1:56:11 finish, but I am always grateful to be able to experience so many of these challenging events and meet amazing people along the way.

As has been my tradition for years, I began Thanksgiving 2021 with a race, albeit with a shorter 10K rather than a typical half marathon due to a lack of options nearby, at the Trophy Trot 10K in my current city of Raleigh, North Carolina. Based on how effortlessly my pace has increased recently with the chillier weather, I targeted an ambitious time goal, not realizing the entire course comprised moderate hills.

Kicking off the run going around and through countless joggers who decided to line up front felt irritating, as I unnecessarily wasted valuable energy and was hindered from speeding up for the first 1/10th of a mile. I should have jogged around prior, as my body warmed up on mile 4, evident by my significant negative split the second half. Generally, in a half marathon or farther, I can afford to take a few miles to warm up, but in a race that lasts only around 50 minutes, I should have been smarter, especially in a 32-degree start. I read in the waiver no musical device was permitted, and, although nobody cares, being the OCD-rule follower I am, I ran without music, which I am accustomed to and frankly enjoy at this point. Just over a mile to go, as I was climbing, a lady on the side cheering the runners on said, “Don’t fight the hill. Embrace it.” Something about this statement touched me, as most challenges we face are all about our attitude and perspective. A quarter of a mile left, I, still feeling 100%, sprinted and passed more people than I could count, finishing the 10K, 6.32 miles with an elevation gain of 404 feet according to my Garmin, in 54:09, minutes slower than my prediction but understandable considering the hills. Still, I had fun, all that matters. Happy Thanksgiving!

Signing up for the Mayberry Half Marathon, set for November 13, 2021, in Mount Airy, North Carolina, felt to be a no-brainer after observing the course map and ideal chilly weather forecast. With a 41-degree start on a mostly flat trail, I wasted no time pushing the pace, understanding I would be working with a brand new engine from the one in previous months in summer heat. Without a timing mat at the start, this event only offered a chip finish time, basically gun time, so I made certain to line up just behind the front runners so that my official time would read as close to my actual time as possible. I locked into a comfortable pace and felt at peace until I saw 2:00 pacers tailgating me for a long stretch before passing me, implying they were running significantly faster than their sign displayed and likely messed up many runners’ attempt to barely achieve a sub-two-hour goal by staying in proximity with them. I passed the pacers around mile 7, when my body began to feel stronger and I believed I could hold my pace until the end without an issue.

I hoped I could have used the bathroom prior to the race, as my stomach felt uneasy the entire way; consequently, I barely utilized any aid station for fluid to avoid upsetting the body even more, so when I tried to grab a water from a volunteer with just over a mile to go to sufficiently refresh me to finish strong and she inadvertently pulled the cup as I reached, making me miss it, I rightly became extra irritated, even though I should not have complained, “Come on!” I crossed the finish with an official time of 1:53:59.2, content as I had not run this kind of time in months, thanks to the heat and humidity. I hope this result could be an indication of my performances to come in the upcoming months in chillier weather.

My embarrassing performance at the Berlin Marathon did not sit well with me, and I was eager to redeem myself soon. I sought a half marathon, and Virginia’s local Danville Half Marathon, taking place on October 16, 2021, in the eponymous city caught my eye because I observed the forecast that the morning should start off cool and the course was advertised as mostly flat. I still waited until minutes prior to the online registration deadline because my employer hosted an annual nearly all-day Olympics the day before; not knowing what I would be required to do, I wanted to be sure my body felt fine, which I thought it did until I woke up the next morning with aching thighs. This became my second consecutive race starting on sore legs.

To my unpleasant surprise, the 13.1-miler kicked off already full of sunlight and heat, likely reaching almost 80 degrees, and I could feel its impact on my body especially with four miles to go. In spite of my gradually slowing down, I refused to walk and maintained a relatively steady pace, allowing me to pass several strong-looking runners who had to mix in walking throughout and toward the end. I crossed the finish in an unnecessary sprint, thinking the man behind me would be attempting to catch up to me when he did not, in 2:01:51.24, more than sufficient for first place in my age group of 30-34. Albeit I arrived expecting a comfortable sub-2:00:00, once I felt the heat from the get-go, I knew this generally easy goal to be an uphill battle. I have no doubt once the weather finally cools off, I will regain my speed, so I will remain content in simply giving my best for now.

Following my lottery rejection for Berlin Marathon 2020, I was informed another easier route to an entry through tour operators, and I chose interAir GmbH, requiring me to simply book a hotel through this travel agency. When the marathon was canceled due to the pandemic, I chose the option to defer rather than receive a full refund, not foreseeing even in late 2021 the world would be battling the inconveniences of COVID-19. Not even two weeks left, I mentally laid this down, unable to figure out how I could make the trip work after waiting so long due to so much uncertainty surrounding the event and the lack of communication from the organizers and I had just taken on an evening project with my employer. By the time I thought about booking flights, the prices had skyrocketed; yet, miraculously I found a deal on Expedia I could not pass up by bundling flights and a hotel, and I finally pulled the trigger. Preparing the logistics, especially locating a testing center open on Sunday after my race and having to test negative in order to return to the United States the following morning, stressed me so much, not to mention United Airlines canceled my first flight past 10:00 PM the night before departure, I believed wholeheartedly running the marathon would be the easiest thing I would do on this brief trip, September 23-27, 2021. Leading up to the race, I predictably walked exponentially more than I should have, even climbing up and down the Berliner Dom that caused my legs to violently shake the day before, and I woke up the morning of the marathon with sore legs. Albeit the weather on race day up until a couple of weeks prior was forecast ideal for a 26.2-mile run, just that one day suddenly turned on us with unexpected heat of nearly 80 degrees and humidity. Because the event website asked runners not to wear headphones, I for the third consecutive race and first for the marathon distance ran without music and again enjoyed the purity of the run itself. I took a slow pace but still moved faster than most in my wave, for 4:15 or slower or first-time marathoners. A mile in, I had to squeeze through a couple, common in a race of this immensity, and politely said, “Excuse me.” What sounded like a British accent came back with, “Go around,” which I ignored until I heard what followed: “Dickhead.” I never expected to be cussed at by a stranger in a marathon out of all places and instinctively turned around and replied, “Shut the f–k up, b-tch,” to which the troublemaker remained silent and likely frightened. This immature incident bothered me for the next mile, but I quickly shook it off and told myself, “I am in Berlin. Enjoy it!” I even faced difficulty on mile 3 maintaining my pace, thanks to the virtual barricade that had formed of countless slower runners with no space for me to pass. I atypically had to stop by a porta potty, or so I thought, past the 20-kilometer split timing mats; I could not pee and wasted 30 seconds. Here, whether from the short stop or the adverse conditions, perhaps both, my flow was abruptly snapped and I could not relocate my comfortable strides. 16 miles in, I began struggling. I already knew a personal record would be a push but still thought I had a 4:30 in me, which proved to be too big of a B goal for the day. I swallowed my pride and significantly lowered my goal to finishing under five hours, and when I noticed my Garmin and the kilometer signs did not coincide, I pushed the final mile and a half harder, knowing I would be nowhere near the finish when my watch reached 26.2 miles. I crossed the finish line in 4:57:42, by far my slowest marathon to date, at 26.8 miles on my Garmin; at my slow pace at the end, this distance discrepancy meant a difference of 6-7 minutes. Nevertheless, I was filled with gratitude toward God that He even allowed me to do this that seemed to be impossible until not even a couple of weeks previously. I would have to be a selfish brat to be upset over something as minute as my finish time when many participants could not finish and many more could not toe the line for a variety of reasons; I witnessed one lady lying on the ground being attended to about 1.5 miles to go, which made me feel emotional for her. After chugging some complimentary beer, returning my timing chip, and getting my embarrassing finish time engraved on the back of my finisher’s medal, service I paid for during registration, I proceeded to the testing center quite a distance away and received my negative result twenty minutes later, which squashed my biggest concern of being stuck in Germany. I thank my Father for orchestrating and watching over me throughout this entire journey. Two Majors down, four to go!

Even though I generally do not sign up for a race of a distance I easily cover in a casual run, I sat on The Carying Place Labor Day Race for Home 10K for days because I would only need to drive 15 minutes to reach the event location in Cary, North Carolina. After confirming some details with the organization, I registered the night before at the last minute, literally, at 5:59 PM when online registration closed at 6:00 PM. About 2:30 AM on race day, my entire apartment complex was forced to evacuate due to a deafening fire alarm that lasted over half an hour, and based on solely one apartment flashing and reeking of weed, some of us suspect dolts there were getting high. Suffice to say, I went into the race half asleep.

I ran without music for the second consecutive race, and the more I do this the more I enjoy running because I become more aware of nature and my surrounding, especially if the course can be confusing. Often when I listen to music, I become anxious and impatient for each song to end that would signify how far I have gone, making the run feel like homework I have to do rather than a hobby I choose to do. I chatted with fellow runners and exchanged positive cheers with volunteers, as they continued to shout my bib number, “Go, 285! We see you, 285!” The course remained mostly flat and breathtakingly gorgeous with a lake at the center surrounded by armies of trees, and the heat did not bother me, as I knew I was only covering a 10K, 6.27 miles according to my Garmin. I crossed the finish line in 54:30.5, by far one of my worst 10K times ever but not surprising due to the summer heat and I nowhere near emptied the tank. Race or not I was going to run, so why not make it a race on this day off where I can make new friends who reside in my area?

Walking in bizarre humidity to the start of the Ashland Half Marathon, branded as “summer’s hottest half marathon” and taking place in the titular city in Virginia, supposedly the “Center of the Universe,” on August 28, 2021, and already sweating and feeling uncomfortable breathing in addition to this being my first-ever race without music, I thought it wise to take my run conservatively and forget about pace. The official website explicitly stated music would be prohibited, and albeit a member of the team via Messenger told me nobody would enforce that and nearly half the field wore earphones, I still wanted to follow the rules to a tee, thanks to my OCD. To my pleasant surprise, I actually enjoyed running without music because this allowed me to absorb the beauty and sound of nature more deeply while chatting with fellow runners for half the race.

Knowing my body detests heat, I maintained a steady slow pace and resisted speeding up for the first half and planned to push more following if I still felt fresh. Slightly past halfway, the family of a high-school girl who had been running in proximity with me started filming her and cheering her on, and I, right behind her, jokingly joined in, shouting her name. After that, she stuck with me and we conversed until about a mile to go, when she took off and/or I slowed down due to the hill that carried on for about a mile and a half. I had told her around 8 miles in, “We will run together until 12 miles, and you will beat me after, okay?” to which she said yes. I crossed the finish line in 2:04:24, but this did not bother me much considering I bore 13.25 miles, according to my new Garmin Instinct Solar, in this roughly 90-degree heat and suffocating humidity that would have made simply standing painful. Nevertheless, I feel peculiar in that my legs do not feel like they ran at all, making me wonder if I should have run harder. I really only signed up for this event because I wanted to squeeze in a race in August, as much as I dislike running 13.1 miles in the summer due to the inevitable slower running that would demoralize me, and I found no other option relatively nearby. As always, I loved meeting and sharing stories with new humble and inspiring people.

Not knowing if my legs have sufficiently recovered from the recent ultramarathon and with Hurricane Elsa on my path, I waited until half an hour before the deadline to sign up for North Carolina’s renowned The Scream! Half Marathon, occurring on July 10, 2021, and descending from Jonas Ridge to Mortimer, from 3,930 feet to 1,572 feet, with five or six climbs making appearances throughout. I have recently completed multiple downhill half marathons, and none of these with regard to finish time has been giving me a particular advantage. Yes, when you are running downhill, you let gravity take over and do not exert as much cardio, but the significant impact on your calves and different types of muscles used fatigue your legs so rapidly that, when even the slightest bit of climb enters, that section feels exponentially more challenging to overcome maintaining an ideal pace. Factoring in the summer heat, I did not know what to anticipate time-wise, but I stayed optimistic and hoped for a near-1:50:00 finish, ludicrous ambition for the middle of summer.

The runners were picked up and transferred to Jonas Ridge from Brown Mountain Beach Resort on a shuttle, and following packet pickup, waiting time, and announcements, we collectively walked (while some jogged) a quarter of a mile to the starting line. As we were lined up, I decided to walk forward from the middle of the pack to see if the event provided a timing mat at the start; if not, I planned to move closer to the lead pack so that my official time would be as close to my actual time as possible. I began moving, and all of a sudden the front runners ran, and I, perplexed, started my Garmin and running many steps behind the start, telling a lady to my left, “This is the most random start I have ever experienced.” I barely even noticed the tiny starting chalk mark and ran inward, and I spoke to participants who did not even know the exact start location. The first couple of miles comprised minor rolling hills, following which the descent launched. My knees and feet heavily pounding the uneven pavement understandably worked my muscles intensely, and whenever I was met with a climb my legs did not allow me to push hard enough to keep my pace, especially the final one right before the finish. Multiple runners in front of me walked uphill, and each time I saw them I became psychologically drained. My official time reads 1:56:28.9, albeit my actual time should be about 10 seconds faster based on where I stood when the officials began the clock.

Following the finish, runners were transported back to Brown Mountain Beach Resort, where we shared complimentary lunch, beer, and sodas, dipped ourselves in the lake, and even played with an alpaca that ended up spitting on me twice prior to the awards ceremony. These post-race festivities made this event feel more like a vacation than a race. Let’s see if my legs will be “screaming” when I wake up tomorrow!

A flat 50K (32-miler, actually) that kicks off at 5:33 PM (for my assigned wave 2) in a new state just over two hours north of where I reside felt too convenient an opportunity to pass up, although the race, Night Train 50K, taking place in the middle of summer on June 26, 2021, and my body typically not efficiently reacting to intense heat I anticipated would add an extra layer of challenge. The event would commence in Camp Paradise, Virginia, and take the runners through downtown, Tuggle, and Prospect and straight to the turnaround a mile west and back. 86 degrees here, perhaps due to humidity, felt significantly warmer than 86 degrees in Raleigh, North Carolina, and I restrained my speed, which for the first couple of miles tired my legs slightly before they warmed up to the sluggish pace.

I began feeling the impact of humidity only six miles in and raced more conservatively after ten miles. Bugs I had never seen before would not stop attaching to me, and I even saw an immense black snake crawling across the course. I felt psychologically strengthened once I turned around at the halfway point 16 miles in, marked by two chairs, albeit my OCD made me go slightly farther and past these chairs prior to turning around. I put on my headlamp just past this midpoint and repeatedly spotted what seemed to be poisonous spiders standing still when I looked down; I was amazed I never actually stepped on any and continued to come an inch or two away from doing so. Thanks to the inevitable dehydration, keeping myself mentally alert and motivated became a struggle with over ten miles to go, but my legs still felt fresh because I could not run as fast as I hoped to. Understanding this to be a 32-miler and not a 31.07-miler, with five miles to go I began calculations in my head how swiftly I would have to move to finish comfortably under seven hours and continued to push whenever my body would let me. I reached the 50K mark around 6:37 and crossed the finish line, 32.22 miles according to my Garmin, in an official time of 6:52:12, while the raw data from the race director read 6:52:11.3. (No big deal, but this confused me because my watch shows 6:52:11 in spite of my starting it before crossing the start and stopping it after crossing the finish, but an ultrarunning veteran who has run 191 marathons and ultramarathons to date I met in a race in Alabama explained to me the likelihood of a lag in chip timing caused by various factors, such as the reading of RFID chips from timing machines and the connections of computers.)

Driving back home immediately well past midnight felt nerve-racking, as I encountered countless deer and other animals by the road. I find it amusing my legs carried me through my eighth ultramarathon yet they feel hardly sore and my upper body aches more. I enjoy putting my body through these tough challenges that make me feel vulnerable and remind me how fragile I am, helping me be more grateful for all that I have and, most importantly, passionately rely on my Savior and Him only. Thank You, Jesus!