My running mix is a rather laughable collection of songs that I would rarely listen to in real life.  I’ve been fine-tuning it for years, and the songs are chosen so that when my Ipod is set on shuffle, I almost never hit a song that lags and makes me want to stop running.  There are a few gems that make me want to run even harder though– run over children, sprint, and make people remark “wow, she’s not messing around.”

These songs are:

Eminem: Lose Yourself

Bon Jovi: Shot Through the Heart (not to be confused with You Give Love a Bad Name- this one rocks so much harder)

Natasha Bedingfield: Not Givin Up

Ting Tings: That’s Not my Name

Madonna: Hollywood

Raconteurs: Steady as She Goes

Rob Thomas: This is how a Heart Breaks

That’s right, Rob Thomas. I don’t know what it is about that song, but it jacks me up in a way that is just silly.

Last 1/2 marathon that I ran, I was flagging pretty hard around mile 8.  I had never run more than 5 miles at one time in my life, and even though I did the first six rather easily and with some joy, I reluctantly started dragging ass soon after.  Finally, someone gave me some energy goo, I psyched myself up, and my Ipod clicked over to Me Against the Music, by Britney.

It was a perfect storm.

This time around, it was 38 degrees out, and my legs were so frozen for most of the race that I could only run in bursts, but I did my best, and had fun as well.  There were also two hills (the course was promised to be flat!), and Rob Thomas’ sweet frenetic jam carried me up them (fairly) happily.

Near the end of the race, I tried to find the perfect finishing song that would allow me to tear into the Fargodome and wow the spectators with my energy and speed, despite the fact that if they were actually paying attention to my time, they would realize I hadn’t pushed myself too hard.  That song was Lose Yourself.  I turned it up, and started sprinting.  One of the race spectators saw me speed up and yelled “Yes! Finish strong!” I yelled back, “I intend to!”

Once I was almost inside the dome, I really regretted the sprinting, or at least starting as far away as I had, but it was too late– people could see me.

As I’ve found to be standard in racing situations, the runner tears across the finish line with as much strength and determination as possible, then runs right into a crowd of people who have also just finished, a snack table, and the people handing out medals.  So I went from 8 mph to STOP very abruptly.  One does not have to be an exercise physiologist to realize this must be a bad idea, but it’s always like this.  I jogged in place for a bit, and wended my way over to the medal holders for my prize.

Once I figured out what each color ribbon meant, and that I would be getting orange, I waited for someone to give me one.  When no one acted, I walked up to some chick and said, “Can I have one of those?”  She seemed a bit shocked and scared, but gave me the medal.  Then I had some nutter butters.

All in all, it went pretty well.

  • I did not beat my old time, I actually added on a minute, but considering the fact that I feel like I walked the whole damn thing, that’s pretty good.
  • I managed to ditch my father after mile two, which sounds cruel, but I never promised that I’d actually run with him, and if he had conferred with me beforehand, I would have told him that flat out.
  • I ran by a former co-workers house, and got a kleenex, a hug, and some encouragement, which makes me feel a bit like a celebrity.
  • I saw two people I went to elementary school with.
  • I was fairly sore the following day, but not really that bad. I certainly didn’t get as sick after this one as I had the first one, which was the goal.
  • I now have two rather ugly medals, which is less weird than just one.

The day after the race, I washed and dried my Ipod and now it is completely unresponsive, but my earbuds still work.