What, You Didn't Know I Was Going to do a Half Marathon?

Neither did I.

Amber sent me a Facebook message on Thursday and asked me if I would do the Country Music Half Marathon with her. The CMHM was on Saturday.

That's right. Two days later.

And I agreed to it. Because I am completely and totally crazy.

Now, Amber is quite pregnant; so she assured me that she would be walking almost all of it, and that if she could do it, I could do it. I hadn't been doing any distance training whatsoever, but I figured that I could walk it with a little running thrown in. Amber figured we'd be able to finish in around three hours. We finished in 3:19:09. Not bad considering Amber's knee went bad after mile four, and we had to walk pretty much the rest of the race. And that was with three pee breaks (if you do a half marathon with a pregnant woman, expect to hear the phrase "Oh, good, I see port-a-potties!!!" very often).

This was my second half marathon. The first one, I trained for, and actually ran. This one I did spontaneously and walked nearly all of. They shared some commonalities for me. Here are a few things that appear to happen to me whether I train or not, walking or running:

• Around mile 6, the bottoms of my feet start to feel like they have been crushed with a sledgehammer.
  
• When I hit mile marker double-digits, my hamstrings decide to start shredding themselves with a cheese grater.
  
• My leg muscles swell and become hotter than a charcoal fire.
  
• For the remainder of the day, I am useless.
  

When I got home, I took an ice bath. I would normally write something here about how torturous it was, but honestly, it was quite nice after the initial shock of the cold. My legs were really inflamed; the ice felt good.

After that, I put on some dry pajamas and crashed into the bed for a nap. In about an hour, Ted and Julia arrived at the house (Ted had been so kind as to take Ju to band practice for me that morning so I could do the race). They came up to my room and Ju plopped down beside me and started chatting, and Ted gave me a massage on my poor shattered feet. Later that afternoon, Julia went to hang out with some friends, and Ted used The Stick to roll out the lactic acid in my legs. The screams were epic.

Today, I was very sore and walking quite gingerly, but I feel pretty good. Much better than I did after my first half marathon. I'm thinking that the difference was having someone to give me some aftercare this time. In 2009, it was just me and a twelve year old. So when I got home, not only did I not have anyone to baby me, I had a baby of my own to take care of (not a baby, but not quite as self sufficient as she is now). This year, I had a fourteen year old who could fend for herself as I lay in bed and tried to heal, and a wonderful partner who brought me water, rubbed my feet, and rolled my legs to help me recover. I must say, I recommend it this second way. :)

One final note. If you are pregnant and you walk/run a half marathon, expect your hoochie-koo to be sore afterwards. Apparently the baby pounds your pelvis pretty hard while you're doing all that walking.