Top o' the Freaking Hill to Ye!

So, today I ran the Shamrock 15k, sponsored by Summit Athletic Running Club.  It was my first race without music, and while I am happy to know that I CAN run without music, I would have actually enjoyed this race had I been listening to my tunes.

I started the race with Heather and Shelby.  Heather and I have a difficult time holding back in the beginning of a race, and we both decided to start in the ten-minute corral.  When the gun went off, we shot off with it, and we couldn't get the pace slower than 9:21.  Shelby, who is a badass, tore ahead on the downhill part, and I didn't really see her again until the turnaround toward the end.  Way to go, Shelby!

Going downhill was great except that we knew what was coming next.

Heather:  What goes down, must. . . 

Me:  Shut the hell up.

I wasn't in my "I love you, Man" phase yet.

I told myself that I would not walk the hills, and I didn't.  At the top of the steepest hill, I yelled, "Yes!  I made this hill my bitch!" which is my tradition on big hills.  Sometimes people appreciate that and sometimes they don't.  I had a lot of grumpy people around me today.

Around mile five I started dreaming about pulling a DNF, just so I could get some peace.  I was cold, tired, and hungry, and my bat-shit crazy mind was pulling me in a million different directions.  At one point I started pretending that this guy from the movie The Leprechaun was chasing me.

I'm the leprechaun; give me back my gold!

Ah, The Leprechaun.  One of Jennifer Aniston's finest oeuvres.  

Miles six through nine were where I started my chanting/breath combo.  For three freaking miles I chanted (in my head), "I am strong.  I got this.  I am fast.  I got this."  Sometimes I kept chanting, "Chicken chicken chicken chicken," in the background.   That is because I was thinking of this blog post from the Blogess about picking your battles (which is HILARIOUS).  Needless to say, this was not fun.

I would like to thank the Towpath Turtles for being Superfans around mile eight and the end.  I could hear you yelling from the opposite end of the block, so you gave me a target to run toward.  I decided at that point that I would have to at least look like I was running fast while you were out there.

I've got my medal.  I've eaten my lukewarm soup.  I've warmed up in the shower.  I think I'm going to have a beer and dream about a ribeye steak.  Happy St. Patrick's Day, everyone!