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The good news: It didn't rain!
The bad news: It was still THIRTEEN MILES.
I ran the race today on less than a week's worth of training. I guess that means I'm in pretty good shape... or incredibly stupid. I guess I'll find out tomorrow. From what my muscles are currently telling me, the later is more likely.
I came in at 2 hours and 17 minutes, enough to place me at 5073 out of some 15,000 runners. Not having run this far before, my only goal was to run the entire race without walking. My legs turned to rubber at mile ten but somehow willpower was enough to keep going. I'm sure I will regret it all tomorrow but it was actually a lot of fun.
Gavin and I got up at 5am (EST, you late-sleeping westcoast bitches) to meet up with our friends and hop on MARTA. The train was full of runners:
It was freezing
cold. And dark. At this point I'm seriously questioning my sanity. If we had gone to Miami with the gazilionaires, we would still be awake partying from last night.
First people to start are the wheelchairs. Some of these chairs looked faster than my motorcycle:
The start was pretty crazy, but somehow 15,000 runners got moving without trampling anyone:
You can tell how seriously I'm taking this - I brought my camera. Unfortunately I don't really have any good pictures of the race since there wasn't much light on an overcast day at 7am, and a running jogger doesn't make for a very stable camera platform.
The course followed a roundabout path through the most beautiful parts of Atlanta. We even ran by Martin Luther King's house. People were cheering at most street corners, and in quite a few places there were live bands playing good rock music.
Some favorite moments (I noticed too late to get a picture, and I wasn't exactly going to turn around):
* The girl with a tshirt that had "Race Official. Do Not Pass." printed on the back.
* The guy on the side of the road with a keg of beer encouraging everyone to "drink more fluids, keep hydrated!"
* Everyone shouting "Think positive!" "Kill! That! Hill!" "You look fabulous!" "Great job!" "Way to go!" "Looking good!" over and over and over. I half-expected to hear Stuart Smalley shouting "Gosh darn it, people like you!" I would have been more amused by a couple guys with a keg and a bullhorn shouting abuse at the runners, burningman-style: "Move it, slackers!" "My grandmother passed by here fifteen minutes ago!" "That ass isn't going to shrink by itself!"
* Of course, everyone gets a medal, because everyone is special:
I spent most of the race thinking about getting warm, and getting beer:
My race buddies (mostly JBoss/RedHat folks):