Race Day

Obnoxious alarm at 5:30 am, again. Except this morning, it was really not 5:30 but 4:30 am. Snooze button until about 6. Threw on my gear, grabbed my sunglasses, which I of course I wouldn't need for another 2 hours, a banana and a granola bar, and swept out the door by 6:20. My light jog down to the race start line got me there by about 6:30.

It was chilly, but not as cold as I have had to put up with in previous races. Certainly nothing like the San Antonio Half several years ago where hundreds of runners tried to huddle up to a VERY finite number of heaters in about 40 degree temps. THAT was cold!

The field was quite cramped. Not until about Mile 5 did it open up a bit, remaining susceptible to much jockeying and suprisingly rude territorial behavior. Unusual for runners, who as a whole tend to be quite polite. I was not too happy about the man ahead of me who was hocking up into the wind; I was even more unhappy when there was no room next to me to move out of the field of trajectory.

By Mile 10, my ITB kicked in due to the mostly cambered running surface. While I was able to maintain a very steady pace throughout, the pain in my right knee and the cramping in my right toes made it difficult to keep going. So, while I was successful at not having to stop to use the porto-lets, I had to slow down just to be able to finish. My goal was to finish better than 2:08 but I failed with 2:11. I did surpass my previous 5K AND 10K finish times. Not good enough for me. This means at least 5 more Halfs in my future unless I can get my training more in line with my goals.

The food spread was not as diverse as other races I have done, but was much healthier, for which I was thankful. Yummy yogurt mixed with fresh fruit and granola instead of pizza. I left within 20 minutes of finishing and limped the 1.2 miles back to my hotel, where I showered and crashed until about noon.

At which time, I practically jumped out of bed and within 10 minutes was out the door. The Aleve I had taken right after the race was a necessity in this. I was not about to waste this gorgeous day!

My plan was to head to Venice for lunch. Venice is one of the local tourist areas, complete with shops and restaurants. The town green was hosting a Jazz Festival and Venice Ave. was fairly crowded with couples and families wasting away a beautiful Sunday afternoon in the sun. I opted for lunch at T.J. Carneys. It was one of the only "restaurants" with copious outdoor seating. I refuse to sit inside on such a perfect day! I ended up chatting with an older couple who sat down next to me. We talked mostly about running and traveling. They are from Minnesota, spending 2 weeks down here while the temps back in their hometown are pushing the mid-20s. When they heard that I planned to head to one of the keys after lunch, they suggested Gasparilla Key. Pristine, mostly open white sugar sand beaches. Sold!

Solo sandpiper trolling for dinner. This was as close as he would let me get.

After paying the $5 bridge toll and traversing the 5 mile causeway, I ended up at the Gulf in the parking lot of one of the only public beaches on the island. Most of the island, like the others here, is occupied by resorts and rental properties in posh, private neighborhoods. What struck me about this island was the turquoise water and idyllic waterway scenery. "Idyllic" can be found in many places in the US, but turquoise waters...well, let's say that is a rarity where I come from.

Houston/Galveston water is more varied shades of brown and grey.

I parked and walked down the beach. I literally ran into a man plopped right in the surf with his fishing poles stuck in the sand. Not a fisherman myself, I was intrigued and stopped to ask him what he was fishing for. Not long after, a beautiful Blue Heron sauntered up, obviously after the man's bait fish. Seeing that I took my camera out, the man offered to sacrifice some of his bait to try to lure the bird closer for a good shot. The bird gladly obliged!

Blue Heron posing after his payment of several frozen bait fish.

I turned back shortly after that. My knee was acting up and my bladder was beginning to scream at me.

On the way home, windows open and radio blaring, I pulled up to a stop light next to a man on a motorcycle. He looked over and said something to me, which I couldn't hear because my music was so loud. Once I turned down the volume, he repeated himself.

"You look like you're having about as bad a day as I am."
"Not really," I replied. "Actually, I'm having a great day (not a lie!)"
"Oh. Well, I wish I could say the same. My dad died today," he said. Boy, did I feel like an insensitive bitch.
"I'm so sorry to hear that." I really was.
Light changed. Engines (mainly his 750) roared.
"I'll say a prayer for you," I yelled at the top of my lungs.
He waved back.

For the next several stop signs we ended up right next to each other. At one point, a brand new green Viper with black racing stripes pulled up in the far lane.

"I wouldn't mind driving around in that," he said.
"I'd take it," I replied.
Light change again.

He thrilled me and the other drivers on the road with some stunt driving-showoff, I thought...obviously blowing off some steam-before finally turning off the road. I beeped and waved; he waved right back. 

I have thoroughly enjoyed this trip if only because of the people I have encountered. Each one has enriched my journey in some way; each one has made a solo yet potentially lonely trip enlightening and invigorating.

Seashells (crushed) by the seashore.