Hotlanta Half, Atlanta GA, June 9, 2019

Getting ready to leave for the Iron Horse Half in Lexington, KY.

The summer flew by this year, starting and ending with a half-marathon. In between was NOT a lot of running. There was some vacationing, some sickness, and a minor a toe injury. I did not pull the mileage I’d hoped for, but, that’s how it goes sometimes. I’d forgotten, though, that I never did update those summer races.

And here we are. In September.

So I thought that before my ultra training got going full steam, and before my next race, that I should at least give you a few photos and thoughts from those races before we move on. And when I mean, move on, I mean there’s my plane bound for Lexington for a half-marathon tomorrow.

Back in June, I was hanging out at Tampa International readying for a flight bound to Atlanta. Very similar to today, actually. I arrived an hour before take-off and enjoyed some deliciousness from Potbelly. I will gladly overpay in the airport in eat this food.

I polished off the grub and settled in for what I thought would be a few more minutes before boarding. After only about 5 minutes, the epic event known as “The Longest Rain Delay Ever” began. Now, I know that there are often weather delays in our northern states due to snow and ice that are far more disruptive to life than this one. But for little ol’ me, who doesn’t really fly all that much and who has a bit of a time schedule to keep with this running “thing”, it was a pain in the tuckus.

The weather here at home had been off and on rainy but nothing to write home to Momma about. The rain in Atlanta? Another story entirely. Seems that Mother Nature was busy dumping on Hartsfield-Jackson and preventing those flights from landing or taking off. One delay turned into two. Which turned into three, and eventually four. There might have been five but I kinda lost track. Either way, I was going to be getting into town much later than expected. I passed the time perfecting my Rummy 500 skills on the iPhone and slurping down a strawberry shake from Potbelly.

By the time I arrived in Atlanta, got off the plane, walked the 845.7 miles to get out of the airport, and hopped on the MARTA to take me into downtown, it was nearing 9:45 p.m. I then needed to make the 3/4 mile walk over to my hotel. This, of course, pretty much gave my husband fits. Suburban woman in running pants with a backpack sorta-looking-like-a-tourist walking around the city at night, just, for some reason, didn’t set right with him. Can’t imagine why. But thanks to Apple’s Find My Friends, he could stalk me from afar as I made my way to my hotel. I arrived just after 10:00. I hadn’t had any dinner, so I hit up the vending machine for some crackers, cookies, and Diet Coke for breakfast. Fortunately I had stuffed myself with food at the airport so I really wasn’t all that hungry. I set the alarm and crawled into bed.

The following morning I made the half-mile or so walk to Pemberton Place for my bib and shirt. It was muggy and lightly drizzling on my walk. It was still dark as I arrived in the park and made my way to the pick-up tent. All the usuals from here: get the bib, eat the bacon, drink the Diet Coke (in front of World of Coca-Cola!), hit the restrooms before they get busy, and wait for the race to begin.

I can’t say I was feeling stellar on this morning. I was tired and my stomach was in a blah kind of mood. It was warm and humid but thankfully overcast. I milled around in the starting corral until the race started.

The race wound its way through parts of downtown, over near the former Olympic village, and through a few neighborhoods. We ran on roads and then later some paved trails through a trendy art-filled section of town with sculpture alongside the trails in the grass and low bushes. I wish I’d taken pictures of this section, as I think it was probably the most enjoyable of the whole race. Towards the later miles we ran through the historic Piedmont Park.

The aid stations were adequate and the police presence was excellent. There was a member of Atlanta’s finest on nearly every corner, expertly directing traffic or protecting us crazy runners from cars as we tooled around the streets of town. And when I say finest, I mean there were only three or four out of the dozens and dozens of officers that looked like they spent more time in the donut shop than the gym. Just sayin’. Even the old guys.

I eventually finished up the race in a pokey 2:23:19. Always rockin’ that middle category though: 690 of 1197 overall and 38 of 71 in my age group. Not too shabby considering the long day I’d had the day before. I hung around afterwards only long enough to drink some water and rest a few minutes. I’m not sure I even took any snacks from the tables after the race. I needed to get back to the hotel for a shower and get back to the airport for my flight home. This was another one of my 24-hour turnaround trips.

I got my bag from gear check and headed back to good old Motel 6. After a quick shower I stuffed my wet, sweaty clothes in a bag and packed up my backpack. Out the door, check out of the hotel, and make the walk back to the MARTA for the ride to the airport.

After getting through security, I was left with nearly an hour and a half before my flight left. Seeing as how I didn't take any food from the race, I was a bit hungry at this point. Well helloooo TGI Fridays. I parked myself in that-there restaurant and ordered a glass of wine with my lunch. I made the mistake of telling the server to just bring me whatever, any Pinot Noir will do. Whoops. Considering that my beverage cost as much as all the food combined, I savored that glass of wine and left no drop behind.

It was a decent trip and decent run, but it was a bit more exhausting this time. Sometimes these quick in and out running adventures work out well. While this Atlanta trip was okay in the big picture, it stretched my patience and mood for sure. I would have like to have felt better and been more focused on the beautiful parts of the city.

Half-Marathon #59 in the books.

Next up, the Alien 13.1 in Roswell, Georgia. In August. And I thought Atlanta was hot…