Who does a half marathon by mistake? ME!

This weekend was the last big ride before tapering for the Philadelphia Marathon on November 22nd, so I planned to ride 22* miles.  I knew that the Rock n Roll half was going on so it might be crowded, but I rode forth…undaunted!

I saw runners going right past my door, but headed to 16th & Chestnut to meet Philly Achilles at 9:00 am.  We headed out onto the path and started our mileage.  I stayed with the group for a while but realized that I needed 18 more miles and I’d better get going.  The loop is a beautiful 8.1 mile path from the Philadelphia Museum of Art along one side of the river and back.

I headed up Kelly Drive towards the Falls River Bridge which was following the trail of empty paper cups and shed hoodies.  About halfway up, I ran into the sweep truck**.  Then I started passing runners and walkers and bands and cheering and excitement.  When I reached the bridge (at the tippy top of the map there) I wondered if I could lap the sweep truck.  Could I do the 8 miles fast enough to pass the sweep truck again?  There was only one way to find out:  grind it!

As I reached the place I passed the truck the first time I thought I was out of luck.  I couldn’t see anybody on the other side of the river and the clean up crews were sweeping the street.  It felt like a sad party and I had stayed too long, but I still had another 5 miles to finish out.  I made it to the bridge and they were just taking down the stage there (did I mention this was the Rock n Roll half?).  I kept pushing and the next stage still had the band breaking down.  Then ahead of me:  I saw the truck!

There was one women limping along in front of it.  She was NOT going to stop.  She might be limping but she was still moving and moving fast enough to stay on the pace.  I passed by a lot of people: some walking, some running, some laughing but most just gave off an air of determination.

It wasn’t far to the end of the course when I noticed a woman that I’d seen on the first lap.  She was obviously struggling, but gutting it out.  I did what other runners have done for me (especially on hills) and matched her pace and gave her a “way to go runner, you’ve got this.” She looked up and barely smiled but made eye contact and upped her pace.  I stuck by her and didn’t notice that we had come to the chute*.

The chute is the end of the race.  There are fences set up to keep spectators off the course and runners on the course.  There is no way to turn around once you are in it.  There’s a spotter so the announcer can congratulate people as they cross the finish line.  He was pretty confused since I was unidentified, but he cheered me in.  I crossed the finish line.  Somebody handed me a bottle of water.  Somebody else handed me a power bar.  A third person handed me a medal.  I tried to decline since I wasn’t registered but she asked if I’d done the miles. When I said yes, she said, “Then here is your medal.”

So anonymous woman who ran with me to the finish line: “Hi!  Congratulations!  You disappeared in the crowd so I didn’t get to tell you that.”

Anybody want to see my medal?

 

*I ended up doing 23.5 miles.  I’m ready for you Philly.

**The sweep truck follows the back of a race.  Anyone who isn’t on pace to finish in the time limit is swept up.