The Ottawa Half - a bit late

So finally, a round up of what it was like to run 21.1 kilometres, again. Finally.

It was, as you well know, the fourth half I've trained for. The second one I've run. It hurt. Oh, lord.

I started with colleagues (I mean, who better to spend over 2 hours of pain with than the folks you see every day? And yes, Janey, you better believe I had mascara on.) The pick-up guy, to be exact, was our bunny. And I did my best to stay with him, even though it was my fantasy pace. I had honestly planned to finish. I thought maybe I could do better than last time, but I was prepared to run the same race and figured that'd be ok.

It was crowded. So crowded, that I was soon knocked back in the pack - the pick-up guy turning to check a few times for a thumbs up, but soon I could only see his back, and his ears...

I ran through neighborhoods, past work, across the bridge I cross on almost every lunchtime run. I experienced unbelievable kindness when my ipod fell and the guy behind me stooped in the middle of the surging crowd to pick it up.

I ran past a pirate family no less than three different times, I ran through heat, and drizzle and steady rain, I ran past signs that made me laugh out loud (worst parade ever) and ones I considered stopping to debate (you've done harder things than this), I ran past old colleagues and new, some who recognized me, but most who didn't - I certainly didn't smile the whole time, but there was a moment when I realized that if I stopped to walk the rest of the way, I'd still have finished faster than I ever thought possible.

And that moment was pure brilliance.