A couple of months ago, when Dan said he was interested in registering for a race, I knew just the one for him (and me, of course). The Red, White, and Boom! Half Marathon is the perfect event. It’s (very) early the morning of July 4th and starts and ends quite close to home. Though there are some hills that add an element of challenge in miles 3-5, the second half is fairly flat and offers some nice shade. The course follows the West River, Theodore Wirth, and Victory Memorial Parkways and the first and last couple of miles are along the river. And, it’s put on by Twin Cities in Motion, which makes it a premier event in my mind.
I did the race last year, so I felt confident recommending it to Dan. In addition, it was great for me to have another event on the calendar following Grandma’s Marathon. Dan trained diligently and we were both excited for race day. We even signed up for the VIP package, which meant we had access to our own tent area afterwards with private porta potties, extra refreshments (including beer), and a fun commemorative gift.
July 4th started off warm, and only got warmer throughout the day. The dew points were also high, so we knew we needed to be cautious with our pace to avoid overheating. At 6:30am, after celebrating our great nation with a trumpet rendition of the Star Spangled Banner, we were off! Dan’s goal was to finish in under 2 hours. I wasn’t quite certain what to expect from myself. It was just over 2 weeks after my marathon, the weather was warm as previously noted, and I woke up that morning with a slight stomach ache. Add to that my mindset that anything short of a marathon means go all out from the start. I have done this time-and-time again, trying to run paces I am not equipped to do. It makes for an uncomfortable race and inconsistent paces. I challenged myself to have a different experience this time. More than once, I reminded myself that 13 miles is still a long ways and, in the end, I didn’t want to end up sick with a full day of events planned. So, I ran a few miles in that uncomfortable zone, trying to get away from certain competitors with annoying habits and hoping to find that right pace. At about mile 5, after making it through the hills, I found my pace. I also found my own private pacer.
Unless I am running with someone I know, or occasionally a pace group as I did for a short time during Grandma’s, I normally run alone. I have never buddied up with a complete stranger except for when we’re all crammed together during the early stages of the event. After that, I’m most content when there’s adequate space between me and my competitors. That all changed for me during this race. I don’t recall quite how it happened, but at about mile 5, I noticed that I was keeping pace with this guy in a yellow top and sunglasses. We were running side-by-side and I finally felt good. We were maintaining about an 8:11 per mile pace. When I felt myself take a quick step to get ahead of him, I slowed up. Occasionally, I’d look at my watch. Occasionally, he’d look at his. For the most part, I just focused on the road ahead and enjoyed the scenery. I assumed he was doing the same. It dawned on me at one point that he maybe didn’t appreciate me keeping pace with him. However, when he waited for me during a water stop, that’s when I knew I wasn’t bothering him. We were using each other and the best part for me, though it sounds strange, was we didn’t talk. We didn’t exchange pleasantries or comment on the weather. I ran my race. He ran his. When it came time to pass another runner, I’d move over to give him space to stay with me. We did it all without verbal communication; every ounce of energy was used for running alone.
The miles ticked by and before I knew it, we were approaching mile 12. A glance at my watch indicated we had slowed down a bit. I had a decision to make. Do I break the silence and encourage him to push harder towards the finish? Do I silently break away and run my own race? Do I stay with him and sacrifice my time? At several points during this mental debate, I got a few steps ahead of him and slowed up for him to catch me. Finally, I decided I needed to use whatever kick I had to finish how I wanted or else I’d likely regret it later. He was a few paces behind me. I looked back and said, “Do you have anything left for the last mile?” He responded, “I really don’t”. Then, he said to me, “Great race; thank you”. I responded with the same and with that, I took off. Our one verbal exchange made me so glad that I hadn’t just taken off without saying anything to him. Afterall, he helped me as much I assume I helped him.
I was cruising along the parkway and fully ready to cross that finish line. By now, there were a few more spectators out to cheer us on. American Flags were blowing in the wind, and there was an exciting energy all around. I did my best to “sprint” across the finishing mats, though I have never had anything that even resembles a sprint. It just feels like it after 13 miles! I turned around and looked for my private pacer, but I didn’t find him. Just another very enthusiastic, very sweaty finisher who went to high five me. He got a fist bump instead.
Satisfied with my final time and thrilled with my experience, I went to look for Dan. I knew he wouldn’t be far behind me and we had agreed to find each other in the VIP tent. However, I truly wanted to see him cross that finish line. I made my way there and watched for a few minutes. Soon it became clear that I had missed him. Sure enough, there he was as planned in the tent waiting patiently for me. I was so happy to see him. And best of all, he finished well under his goal! Normally, he listens to me recap my race but this time, we both had stories to share. We enjoyed our VIP experience, especially the refreshing beer, and then walked home. As we were just about to our building, I saw a guy cross the sidewalk ahead of us. He had on a different shirt by now, but I’m fairly convinced it was my private pacer. Who knows, maybe our paths will cross again. If they do, I’ll be sure to ask his name next time.
In the end, the Red, White, and Boom! Half Marathon was a great experience for both Dan and I. For me, there’s no better way to start any day, especially a holiday, than with a run.