On Sunday, the race I’ve been training for finally came.  Because of my 12 Mile Issue, my physical therapist said I would not be able to compete in the full marathon and could only run the half if I promised not to compete and just used the race as a fun, slow training run.  Up until the morning of the race I had no intentions of breaking that promise.  Then the starting gun went off and I left the promise behind…way behind.

At the beginning of the week my wife gave birth to our daughter, Katherine Avery.  This was amazing and exciting and consumed all of my time and sleep (not complaining – I’d happily give up more time and sleep for her).  Saturday night before the race I was so physically exhausted that I was sure I’d have no choice but to run slow and easy the next morning.

Sunday morning, race day, I got up at 4:30am and started eating and getting ready for the race.  By the time I showed up at the event I wasn’t tired at all.  I was energetic and had this feeling inside that only competitive sports can bring out.  As I made my way through the crowd of 30,000 people the competitive spirit that I had promised to keep on a leash started getting restless.

Up ahead I noticed the 1:45 pace group lining up in their corral.  This was the group I had wanted to run with before the ankle injuries sent me to physical therapy.  By the time I had made it to corral number 5, behind the 1:45 pace group, I found myself continuously saying in my head, “It’s just a fun run.  Don’t run fast.  It’s just a fun run.  Don’t run fast.”

A few minutes before the starting gun I was positioned in the middle of everyone in the corral and still repeating the same words in my head – although by this time they were starting to lose their meaning.  I could feel myself getting more competitive as I checked out the other runners around me.

By the time my corral had made it to the starting line I found myself at the very front, eyes fixed on the corrals that had already started and anxiously awaiting the gun.  My last thought before the gun went off was, “It’s just a fun run….”

The gun shot rang out and I tore off the line, my vision fixed on the corral a few hundred yards ahead.  I felt great.  No pain or tightness anywhere.  Every joint felt like it was brand new.  As I caught up to the people in the back of the corral ahead, I glanced at my Garmin to check my pace….

Up until this point, a “fun run” meant that I needed to keep my mile times around 8:30/mile.  I felt like an 8 min mile pace might be pushing it a little too hard and my 12 Mile Issue would set in.  As I was getting ready to pass the people in the back of the corral ahead, my Garmin said I was running a 6:30 mile pace.  It was at this point I knew it was going to be hard to slow myself way down to “fun run” pace.  Competitiveness had set in completely and all I could focus on was finding the quickest way through the crowd.

At the end of mile 1 I decided to slow until I was running about a 7:30 pace and just listen to my body.  If my ankles, or any other joint, started complaining then I’d take it easy immediately.  I found myself running the same pace as a few other people around me so I followed them through the maze of other runners along the course.  By mile 5 I realized that I was still running at a 7:30 pace and everything still felt great.

The course was pretty fun.  There were bands set up about every half mile and lots of people standing on the side of the road cheering everyone along.  My favorite part was the run through downtown San Antonio.  The streets were really narrow (compared to the others we had all just been on) and there were tons of people everywhere screaming and yelling.  First mile aside, this was my fastest area of the race.  It felt like we were flying through downtown below the tall buildings.

There were 2 sections with some gradual hills where my pace slowed to about 8 min and then I got to mile 10.  At this point I was running about a 7:45 pace and knew the race was coming close to an end.  Up ahead I could see the 1:45 pace group that had started a few corrals ahead of me.  I suddenly wanted to beat them more than anything.  I new I was already running a little faster than they were so for the next mile and half I stuck to my 7:45 pace and caught up to them.

At 11.5 miles I was running along side the pace group.  Then I realized I was almost finished with the race and my legs still felt fine.  I pushed my pace up to 7:30 and left the group behind me.

The end of the race was a blur.  We circled around the Alamo Dome, ran up a short steep hill and then the finish line was 75 yards ahead.  Suddenly there were masses of people cheering on both sides of the course.  I felt a huge wave of energy hit me and found myself sprinting as hard as I could for the remainder of the course and across the line.  I pressed the stop button on my Garmin and was excited to see I ran a 1:40 over 13.28 miles!

The post race assessment of my legs was as encouraging as my finishing time was – my legs were tired, but there was no muscle or joint pain anywhere.  The 12 Mile Issue had never come up!