Warning: I am grumpy about this race, y’all. I did, however, endeavor to write something that isn’t a full on rant about the generally crumby experience we had in Jackson.
Y’all, with a name like Skedaddle, I obviously had to run this half marathon.
Despite all the training and the planning and the absolute best of intentions, sometimes you wake up race morning, step out the front door, and just KNOW it’s going to be a terrible race. This year’s Flying Pirate Half Marathon in Kitty Hawk, NC was one of those races.
If I didn’t know better, I might start to think I’m jinxed. This was the second year in a row that I found myself running a crazy-hilly race on St. Patrick’s Day when my insides decided to be profoundly uncooperative. I may sit out a St. Pat’s race next year…
Regardless of what I might have thought about the Lake Sammamish Half Marathon had events unfolded more auspiciously, it shall forever be recorded in my memory as the race without (enough) port-o-potties.
Today, I ran the hilliest race of my life, and I loved it. Loved it! (I’m actually writing this on race day for once, and it’s possible I’m still a little high on adrenaline, caffeine, and sugar… but still. It was awesome.)