Covered Bridges Half (and the shorties leading up to it)

My better half and I spent the days leading up to the Covered Bridges 1/2 Marathon were spent much the same as any other weeks--a couple runs, but short ones, squeezed in where we could. A quick 2 or 3 before a hoops game Wednesday, and a 4-mile dash to the gym for Friday night pickup. Still, the short runs with basketball combined for a not too terribly inactive week, so it was with trepidatious hope that we headed to Vermont on Saturday afternoon. (Incidentally, this was the first time we'd left our dainty flower alone overnight--very taxing on new dog owners. We came home to find Copley happy to see us, but pooped--methinks she had a fabulous, playful 24 hours!)

Our digs? The charming Casa Bella Inn, a bed & breakfast near Killington. The owners, Susan and Franco, were as wonderful as ever--and dinner (by Franco) was absurdly delicious (we shared a chicken parmesan, and a sausage rigatoni with cream sauce, before moving on to chocolate mousse and vanilla gelato). 

The next morning, I dragged myself from bed at 6:00, after some gentle verbal nudging from my better half. We arrived at the drop point alarmingly early, and managed to squeak onto the back of the first shuttle--that's right, the FIRST shuttle. At the start of the race, we were met with glorious oldies blaring from a speaker set, no lines at the bib pickup, and even better--clean porta-potties. Ah, bliss. 

Later, B showed up, making our little party 3. (She unfortunately missed my wild, frenetic dancing to the golden oldies, but hey, you can't win 'em all.) The three of us seemed to have a similar race strategy, one necessitated by our mutually half-assed training for the race--go out strong, and stay strong as long as possible. When the steam ran out, Jared and I agreed not to sweat it--to slow down as needed, and enjoy the lush scenery surrounding Woodstock. 

We wished B luck at the start, and planned to meet up after. At the gun, my beloved and I settled into a fast, loping gate. We churned out mile after mile, recognizing by 7 that we were, despite our doubts, having a pretty good race! Though we knew if we could keep our current pace, we would PR, I had a sneaking suspicion that my "tank" wasn't quite full enough to do that. 

At mile 8, we met our beast--a sharp incline of 1/8-mile. The heat got to me less than halfway up, and I begged Jared for a quick breather, which he was happy to grant. We ran/trudged our way a few more miles, stopping here and there as needed. With a couple miles to go, we committed to digging in and at least finishing the damned thing in under 2 hours. 

At our last quick break, Jared was adamant that we finish the last mile+ with no stopping. I gritted my teeth, and despite my lagging strength and spirits, sucked it up and ran it out with my beloved, finishing in around 1:58. (We later agreed that both of us wanted to stop again during that last mile, but felt like we couldn't do that to the other.)

I think, given our relatively lackluster training and the heat, we actually ran this one pretty well. A PR would have been nice, as it always is, but overall, I'm still happy about the way the day turned out. (The free beer afterwards was a particularly nice touch.) 

Next year, though, we kill this one--those yawning uphills and careening downhills are a fast race just waiting to happen.

On a side note--Jared, despite being as pooped as I, had committed to a basketball game, and had to bolt out the door to his league within 15 minutes of arriving home. You'd think that most people (at least me!) would play terribly, dragging their sore and tired legs up and down the court. Jared, on the other hand, dropped 47 points.