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!

Hoping to squeeze in a race before the conclusion of May, I registered for the Downhill at Dawn Half Marathon, my first race in North Carolina and since becoming a resident of the state, kicking off at Ridgecrest around 2,700 feet and dropping to Old Fort around 1,600 feet for the finish on the 29th. The course, albeit majorly downhill, also comprised several significant climbs, especially towards the beginning when runners went down the opposite way and then ran back up. Observing the elevation chart and recognizing these climbs beforehand, I paced myself in those sections and planned to make up going down. I have become efficient in downhill and even uphill running that I often passed participants running hills while feeling vulnerable on flat. Two ladies, one college student, and I continued to swap positions for nearly the entire race and ended in proximity, which at times made me push harder and the run more exciting.

Once we all finished, I in 1:53:20, we exchanged stories and I discovered one of the ladies flew in from Nebraska and we had mutual friends. The college student was running his first half marathon for a challenge from his fraternity, and his mother ended up driving me back up to the starting line where my car was parked, for which I felt immensely grateful and relieved, as I would have had to rely on Uber otherwise and did not know its frequency of availability in this minute town. Usually the race offers a shuttle back to the top, but due to the COVID-19 pandemic, participants were asked to take care of transporation themselves, why I hesitated to sign up earlier. Summer heat is rapidly approaching and I do not foresee an ideal 13.1 performance for the next several months, so I may shift my focus to ultras and/or other distances.

I planned to run an ultra the weekend before I started my new job on April 12, 2021, but ultimately refrained reading the horrific forecast of rain and thunderstorms for three days leading up to the event and continuing throughout, so I rightly felt upset when I saw an ideal weather for this challenge with hardly any rain. Prior to relocating to Raleigh, North Carolina, on April 26, I still decided to squeeze in one more race at the Run Your Bundts Off Half Marathon on April 18 in Cumming, Georgia.

I figured running under two hours should be a given based on the 46-degree start, albeit the sun did eventually add heat, until I saw the race initiate with a lengthy climb and the entire course move steeply up and down with hardly any flat for my body to recuperate. I want to see an elevation chart before registering for a reason, and I certainly did not anticipate an elevation gain of 846 feet, significant for me in this climate when refusing to walk one step. The steepest climb ended up being the exact same I conquered last year in a different race in Cumming, and predictably I heard a few runners bad-mouthing this section while I was mentally prepared. Based on the difficulty of the course, although I am disappointed in my 2:03:57 finish, I am content simply knowing I gave my all for the day and did not take a single walking break.

Not confident the Tuscaloosa Tourism & Sports Half Marathon, scheduled for March 27, 2021, in the titular city of Alabama, would actually take place due to a thunderstorm warning, I had trouble pulling the trigger on registering until the event’s official Facebook page informed me its intent on not canceling. Familiar territory, I signed up, booked a motel, and drove nearly four hours to the vicinity all the afternoon before.

My body does not react to the heat as efficiently as the cold; thus, I was concerned my having become accustomed to racing in the 20s, 30s, and 40s would make my half marathon #40 extra challenging. As I predicted, the feels-like temperature of the mid to upper 70s and intense humidity that had me desperately longing for the supposedly projected rain overwhelmed me from the start, and with a couple of steep climbs early on and consistent rolling hills throughout, by 4 or 5 miles in I already accepted this inevitably less-than-ideal performance no matter how much harder I pushed and decided to carry on at a casual pace with the only goal of running the entire way without a walking break, which I managed. My 2:05:30 finish ranks among my worst finish times in recent memory, but I remained grateful I could squeeze in a race before March passed, as I try to participate in at least one every month and had not done so yet this month.

Speaking to and befriending countless runners, spectators, families, and volunteers marks the highlight of my experience here. I finally felt a sense of normalcy that has been frustratingly elusive since the COVID-19 outbreak. An uncontrollable extrovert, I need to be in the presence of people, so this alone made this spontaneous trip worth it.

 

I prefer to participate in a race or two every month to preserve my fitness and motivate myself to consistently train. Running out of time in February 2021, I only a few days before registered for the Greenville Half Marathon on the last Saturday of the month in South Carolina, advertised as the “fastest half marathon in the South.” Half marathoners would take off in Travelers Rest, run through the Swamp Rabbit Trail, and finish on TD Stage at the Peace Center in downtown Greenville. I doubted I could challenge my personal best in the distance at this moment but still shot for a sub-1:50:00 on this net-downhill course.

I was assigned Corral 3, consisting of runners who submitted their estimated finish times close to mine, and the hundreds of us ran the initial mile and a half together prior to scattering following a minor incline. Having meticulously researched this race, I knew ahead of time the first four miles or so would comprise rolling hills and then most of the downhill running would begin, so I kept the balance between not pushing early and not falling off pace too much in hopes of making up in the faster miles so that my finish time could actually benefit from this layout. I could tell the swiftness of the course based on how little resistance my body felt for the pace I maintained, but visually most of the downhill sections, subtle and gradual, appeared more flat.

Physically, this 13.1-miler, 13.23 according to my Garmin, felt to be one of the easiest out of the 39 I have completed, albeit my 1:53:42.3 finish does not seem to indicate that. Perhaps the race director could consider naming this the “easiest half marathon in the South” instead.