Urban Wildland race report

Short version: humid, slog, sweaty, the usual, etc.

Gosh, that's an enticing lede that really makes a reader want to read more.  Ready?

Longer version: Today was a rough go, but it was actually a good test of how much I actually love the Urban Wildland Half-Marathon--and the answer is a lot.  The race is in Richfield, a suburb south of Minneapolis.  I stumbled across it first in 2008, when I was in training for the Hartford Marathon, and it's good timing for lots of area runners who are doing big long runs this month to prepare for Twin Cities, Chicago, or other fall marathons.  In 2009, I ran the race again and set a big and also unbelievably unexpected personal record (PR).  That was the last time I ran Urban Wildland, so I have inflated the race in my memory to be the prettiest, fastest, most wonderful half-marathon in the Twin Cities.

Pre-race: I woke up and realized that conditions were warmer than ideal--but to be realistic and fair, my ideal won't swoop in until September or October. I ate breakfast, and headed over in time for the 7 a.m. start.  I was hoping to run this one hard as a benchmark for how my training is going this summer.  I had my fingernails painted, a little pre-race tradition originally conceived to remind me to maintain a pulled-together front late in a race when I sometimes feel like falling apart. Recently, it has spun toward reminding me to loosen up and have fun, which means the brighter color, the better.  Last night, it seemed to mean that the more a four-year-old girl would cheer on my color choices, the better.  (See right.)

Race: I was excited to see some of my running club teammates right around me at the start line.  They were shooting for a similar goal time, so I decided to hang with them for the first few miles.  Unfortunately, I knew two miles in that it wasn't a PR day for me--and actually, I should have known after my mile pre-race warm-up, when I was covered in sweat after 10 minutes.  At start time, it was 76 degrees with a 70 degree dewpoint--and almost worse, no breeze.  (Read: Sweatfest 2011, which is basically a summer-long bonanza this year.) I decided to scale back my effort from full-on race pace to relaxed long run pace, and then a few miles after that, choose the classic just-cross-the-finish-line race strategy.

Body: I don't really understand why you see this as a fun hobby.

Me: Sorry, Body, I'm at a loss, too.

But I felt better once I shifted into my new strategy.  I even settled into an okay rhythm later on the course, albeit after I glanced at a cab parked on a sidestreet a bit too seriously.  The other good news is that--PR or no PR--it's still a great race.  Today there were just under 1,000 finishers.  The course is flat and weaves between city streets (lined with great volunteers and spectators) and gorgeous, relaxing natural areas where it's hard to believe you're 15 minutes from downtown Minneapolis. It's also very spectator-friendly, and for me, it's a perfectly organized race: good t-shirts, pre-race communication, and event day logistics.

The miles ticked down, and I crossed the finish line.  My running club coach was at the finish and gave me a pep talk afterward.  I like this club!

Afterward, I went home to visit my mom, who is recovering from knee surgery.  She wanted to get out for her first post-surgery walk, so my mom and sister and I strolled over to the neighborhood park, which featured the most comfortable swing I've ever encountered.


My sister's body language indicates I have exceeded my time limit on the swing.

And then I was home and happily, firmly on the couch for the bulk of the afternoon, getting up only to refill my bowl of watermelon.  I picked a movie to lull me to nap, guessing that Julie and Julia was a not-too-captivating but pleasant choice.  Of course, I ended up watching the whole darn thing, intent on solving a debate with myself about who I love more: Meryl Streep or Stanley Tucci.  (Still torn.)

Happy Saturday.

This might replace the catamount paw as my sign-off.