The Gobbler Grind

I got up at a little after 6:15, took the dogs out, made a cup of tea and a bagel, and got dressed for what would be my first half-marathon, the 12th Annual Gobbler Grind of Overland Park, Kansas.

A perfect day for running, the temperature was in the high-30s when we left (Jill took me to the start line). There was a light breeze, and a slight chill in the air, but pleasant enough to where the biggest question for me was whether to wear shorts or long pants for the race. Ultimately I went with long pants, but I probably could have worn shorts, and had I been running the full, I would likely have changed at some point.

I warmed up a bit in the parking lot while Jill waited in the car. The only concern was that my hamstrings felt rather tight, as has been the norm over the recent week or two. Still, after a little jogging around and some stretching, I felt like as long as I didn't set off like a steam engine O.D.ing on coal, they would most probably warm up and no longer be too worrying.

I took off my fleece and gave it to Jill, who told me she'd see me at the finish, and headed out to the start line, about 10 minutes before the 8am start. As I waited, I noticed that almost everyone seemed to be wearing more than me, many with two shirts on, and long pants tucked into thick socks. This seemed a little strange to me, given the weather, but I had enough confidence from my training to know that I was probably appropriately dressed, and waited for the race to begin. The race director was babbling something into a loudspeaker that was completely unintelligible, but when the National Anthem was played, I knew we were close to liftoff, and at 8am on the dot, the gun went off.

The first mile or two were rather chaotic. It seemed like a lot of people were passing me, but I resisted the temptation to go after them and kept an easy pace. I noticed two guys dressed (for some reason) in St. Patrick's Day outfits. One had a silly hat on and had a costume that was presumably meant to be some sort of elf, and the other guy had an all-over green lycra bodysuit, which made him look like he was about to be shot out of a cannonball.

I was bumped a few times in the early going, and had to have my wits about me as people cut across, slowed down, sped up, and performed several other obnoxious manoeuvres. Fortunately, it wasn't too terribly long before things thinned out a little. The fast runners were safely ahead of me and the slowpokes safely behind. None of this was a huge surprise; I knew it would be a dodge for the first 5k.

We hit the asphalt trail right as the 5k runners peeled off towards their finish line. I didn't immediately notice a sudden lightening of traffic, but after a while, it became more apparent. The trails were very narrow, but, at least for me, it didn't present a huge problem.

At 4 miles, I took water, which wasn't as straightforward as it might have been. The volunteers were trying, but were rather overwhelmed, and I ended up having to line up for about 20 seconds before I received my drink. Fortunately, it was really the only time that happened; future aid stations were better prepared.

At 5 miles, an upsetting sight. The runner in the green lycra suit was lying flat out by the side of the trail, with a muddy mark on his knee and writhing in some pain while his elf-dressed friend attempted to comfort him. Apparently he had fallen and had done some significant damage. Another runner stopped to help. This made me pay particular attention over the next few miles, fearing a similar fate.

We hit the roads again at about 6 miles and remained on them for the next mile and a half before rejoining the trail. Most of this period was uphill and it was here I really began to pass runners struggling with the incline. From this point on, I'd say I probably went by several hundred runners, while I myself was only passed by a small handful. Used to the hills from my training, I didn't find them particularly difficult in terms of steepness, though they were admittedly lengthy.

This was perhaps the most well supported section, other than the finish line, with groups of supporters dotted around and providing enthusiastic support. 1st Avenue in New York it was not, but I appreciated it nonetheless.

Shortly before mile 10, I was relieved to see the marathon/half-marathon split very well marked, with volunteers vociferously directing traffic also. Clearly they had read the comments from previous years where this was a big issue. Also at this point, Jill and Olive were standing by for support, and a photo op.

As I went by the 10 mile marker, a lone full-marathoner was coming the other way. Apparently (don't ask me how), he had missed the split and had to double back almost a mile. That would be such a downer, though to be honest, he must have been totally zoning out to have missed it, so I'm not that sympathetic.

I'd felt strong the whole race, and that continued right up until the final mile when I began to significantly tire. The lightly rolling course became more challenging, and on one little bump, I felt my legs stiffening up quite a bit. I managed to hold my pace, knowing that the race was almost over, but I doubt I could have for too much longer.

Finally, I turned a corner, and about 1/5 of a mile ahead I saw the finish line, and a crowd of people lining the trail, and heard some muffled Christmas songs. It gave me enough juice to speed up just a little (one particularly fresh woman shot past me about 100 yards from the finish, which was a bit of a dent to the ego, but otherwise, I held my spot, and put my right arm in the air as I crossed the finish line. I was thrilled to see that I'd beat my goal time by some 7+ minutes, and Jill and Olive met me with smiles and a snort (I'll leave you to guess which did which). A volunteer quickly cut off my timing chip and another gave me a medal. I was very grateful, because I would definitely have forgotten both.

It all hit me at that point, and I quickly grabbed a banana and wolfed it down, suddenly ravenously hungry. Another quickly followed, along with a (very good) peach yogurt and I began to feel better.

And there it was! 13.1 miles through the streets and trails of Overland Park. The course was pretty, if you like trees and grass (I do), and despite the comments about previous runs, it was excellently organized. The atmosphere at the finish was light and loose. Olive enjoyed some banana and yogurt of her own, so for her it was a highly successful outing, and Jill looked almost as pleased as I did with the result.

I'll post the stats shortly, and maybe follow up with some more post-race thoughts, and also some photos but I wanted to get the synopsis down while everything was still fresh in my mind. Also, for anyone wondering if it's worth the aches and the fatigue, I have only one thing to say... yes it is.