P.F. Chang's Half Marathon Race Report

Every race is a chance to exceed what I think I am capable of doing, but the results aren’t always what I expect or hope for. Lately, I have been disappointed with my body’s lack of energy, and refusal to speed up to a pace that I could normally do easily. The possibility that maybe this time would be different, motivated me to try again.

I usually try to avoid this huge race. The hassle factor is high. The half marathon had over 13,000 participants, which meant a trip into downtown Phoenix for packet pick up the day before. I had to be at the race site two hours before to get parking, line up for the porta-potties and stand around in the corral for half an hour. I like low key, local races where I can arrive an hour early, get my bib number on the same day, warm up and line up ten minutes before the start.
The organizers assign corrals according to projected finish time, This system seemed to be widely disregarded and no one policed the corrals. I was supposed to be two corrals down, but my friend convinced me to be in this one, which was the two hour half marathon people. Some of these people were delusional.

The starting gun went off and we waited. And waited. Fourteen minutes later I started to run–except all the people in my way slowed me down. They weren’t running as fast as a two hour half marathon–maybe a two and a half. I got acid reflux, which is horribly painful and always plagued me at the beginning of any run. My lack of warm up was back to haunt me. Razor blades in my chest made speed difficult, so the first mile was slow. A chance of a personal record for this race slipped away. I tried not to despair.

A guy passed me carrying a six foot long Sun Devils flag. I had to get out of his way to avoid it. Possibly, he had a good reason for carrying it in a crowded race, like a noble charity cause, but I didn’t care and was just irritated.

The reflux went away, but sluggishness persisted. I forced my legs to go faster and they argued with me. This run was not going to be easy. I finally got up to an acceptable mediocre pace, but the terrain wasn’t cooperating. The slight uphill was obnoxious.

Normally a small incline isn’t a problem for me. Running as hard as I can for thirteen miles makes the hills grow substantially. The back of my legs hurt. I tried not to think about how many miles I had to go. My Garmin  G.P.S watch showed a lag in speed frequently.

A Garmin watch is a wonderful, but evil tool. The pace function kept taunting me, telling me that I was inadequate and not fast enough. My mind was the real tormenter, but the watch was easier to blame. I just couldn’t seem to please it. The distance reading also didn’t seem to agree with the race mile signs and always buzzed the mile before the sign, which meant the official time would be slower than the watch’s.

I kept hoping to hit the easy part, so that I could go faster. After 8.5 miles of pain, the route was an out and back, with the worst hill of the course. The placement was unusually cruel. The sight of the 2:09 pacer going downhill as I ascended distressed me. Race goals evaporated to mere survival. My mood grew worse as I cussed and struggled onward. Finally, the top.

I felt somewhat guilty to be in such a cranky mood. I was healthy and able to run on a sunny, warm day, but misery over-ruled positive thoughts. Crankiness is easier than gratitude and I had not expected it to be this hard. The last half marathon I had done, in 2010, was faster and not this arduous.

The road descended, then ascended, and I was unhappy. The up tick in speed wasn’t happening. Instead I was slowing down, which wasn’t what was planned. The bridge over Tempe Town Lake that arched up then led down to the finish line was up ahead.  Large groups of walkers  blocked my way. I couldn’t understand why these people strolled this close to the finish line, then realized they probably had done the five mile mini-marathon. I didn’t see any point to walking an entire race, but some people like do this.


I darted around the walker herds and sped up. The finish line was the incentive to get to the end faster. I couldn’t wait. This wasn’t the race I had hoped for and it was more difficult than  expected, but the self-flagellation  was done. Total time was 2:08:48, for 13.2 miles, not 13.1, according to my watch. At least I had the satisfaction of  the physical challenge of running that far and hard. The discomfort didn’t matter as much as being able to do the feat. It beat walking.