I'm slow. I know. Get over it.

By Laura Parker

Unlike my training partner Jenn Kistler, who runs a mile in 8 minutes and is built like a gazelle, I’m a slow runner. My average pace per mile on long runs is around 11:30. When I signed up for the Arizona Distance Classic Half Marathon as a mid-point training race in preparation for San Diego Rock ‘n Roll Marathon, I predicted my finish time at 2:30:00, which is about an 11:45 mile.

Knowing that I’m pretty slow, I lined up at the start line about three-quarters of the way back in crowd of 900 to wait for the race to begin. Finally, the starting air gun went off and the crowd started to surge forward. I was caught up in a wave of running bodies and kept pace by focusing on a woman in front of me wearing a sport belt with little bottles of what looked like blue Gatorade around her waist. Blue Gatorade? Yuck. Who would bring blue Gatorade to a half-marathon? With aid stations passing out water and regular yellow Gatorade along the course every mile or two who would even bother to bring water? It’s just extra weight…or so I thought.

The race course, which was mapped out though residential neighborhoods with a turnaround point at 6.5 miles, started on an uphill incline that seemed to go on forever. Making us run uphill like that was a pretty dirty trick, I thought. One guy with a Marine Corps Marathon shirt I was running next to even commented about how difficult it was running uphill.

After I had conquered the hill and reached a relatively flat portion of the course I looked down and my Garmin GPS watch to check my time and pace. Holy crap I was running fast! I was running less than a 10-minute mile, but I felt great! Adrenalin was surging into my bloodstream and running was easy. As I sailed through the turn-around-point I grabbed another cup of water from an aid station and was feeling good.

It wasn’t until around mile nine when I first began to feel the strain of running fast, uphill, in the hot Arizona sun. At the beginning of another uphill climb I noticed all the runners around me were walking rather than running.

If I stop and walk I’m not going to be able to get running again, I told myself.

I slowed down to a snails pace, tore open my first pack of Gu Energy Gel and tried to keep going. My hamstrings were already beginning to ache.

After a futile half-mile of “running” slower than the walkers were walking, I finally allowed my self to walk at a quick pace. The morning sun kept rising and was really heating things up. I was getting really hot and really thirsty. I stared to run again in anticipation of dumping a cup of cool water over my head at mile 10, but mile 10 came and went with no aid station.

While running/walking towards mile 11 a familiar woman jogged in front of me with little bottles of blue Gatorade around her waist. I again focused in on her and the little bottles and kept my pace. I would have given anything at that moment to have a taste of cold, delicious, thirst-quenching Gatorade, blue or any other color.

I finally reached an aid station at mile 11 where I poured one cup of water over my head and drank my final cup of water before running to the finish line at mile 13.1 and finishing with a chip time of 2:29:29.

So, what did I learn by running my first half-marathon? I probably should have taken it a little slower at the beginning to save energy for the end. I probably should have worn a hat. And I definitely should have carried blue Gatorade...just kidding. Blue Gatorade is still gross in my opinion. I should have carried water.