#2. Atlanta, GA: Holy Hills.

Did I go to Atlanta or San Francisco? And Was I on Jack and Jill's never-ending journey to fetch a pail of water? Because that's how I felt. Atlanta was a constant incline. And the chance of the course coming to a plateau was slim to none...and Slim just left town. Okay, it really wasn't THAT bad, but it was a hell of a lot hillier than I expected.


The weekend commenced with a father-daughter road trip.  We (mostly Bob) drove from about 5:30 PM on Friday until 1:30 AM to some really classy hotel in No-Mans-Land Tennessee. (It may have been 12:30 AM but driving in and out of central and eastern time zones really confused me. And I already consider myself a relatively confused person.) We crashed for about 4 hours and were back on the road before the sun came up.  Along the way, my dad met a "nice man" at a rest stop who trailed behind him into the bathroom and within 5 minutes invited him into a stall with him. I'm not sure how my dad had the willpower to turn down such a charming request.  We bolted.  The remainder of the drive was fairly uneventful, with a soundtrack of throwback John Mayer and snacks provided by Mary E (thanks momma).  Bob and I haven't had that type of bonding since probably Indian Princesses. For those of you who don't know what that is, it's like the daddy-daughter version of Girl Scouts, without the thin mints. And instead of cookies, it's camp-outs and monthly pow wows where little girls make fun of the Kickapoo tribe (maturity has yet to develop at age 6) and act completely politically incorrect as if we were the ones who feasted with the Pilgrims back in the day. And I'm pretty sure the dads just always got drunk. Needless to say, the road trip was a Father-Daughter moment that lasted for almost 13 hours.


We finally made it to Hotlanta and it was exactly that. Hot. And Sunny. And filled with people wearing khakis. (I really am wondering if that's an Atlanta thing for the amount of sand colored slacks I witnessed.) We checked into our actually classy hotel and strolled a few blocks to the Georgia Dome, where the pre-race Expo was occurring.  The great thing about the Publix Georgia Marathon is that Publix is a grocery chain. So the expo had FOOD. And Bob and I came hungry. LaraBars, boxes of granola, soy bread, crackers...to eat there and throw in my pre-race bag. It was every broke college kids dream of free food.  From there we walked around as I gawked at all the running gadgets and my chips & salsa sample digested. 

Rolling up to ATL after 13 hours in the car 

Bob at the Expo

In front of the Georgia Dome 

Peach Trees. EVERYWHERE. So confusing.

The rest of the day consisted of tourism- roaming the hilly streets that all appeared to be named Peach Tree. I was warned by my friend Mark who had just been in Atlanta the day before that EVERYTHING was named Peach Tree. He was right. After determining that Peachtree NE and Peachtree NW really did not run NE or NW, we found a delicious and highly recommended Italian restaurant for dinner, Azio. The food coma came shortly after back at the hotel. And stretch, hydrate, fill out my emergency contact info on my bib and I was out like a light.


5:30AM came with a still nighttime sky when Bob and I headed to the start line. I felt pretty baller, because I was placed in Corral C (3rd of 16 starting corrals) because of my expected finish time. Corral C was the "fastest runners" behind the elite and sponsored runners. So on a celeb scale of Jennifer Aniston (I love her and I'm watching Marley & Me, so it seemed fitting to name drop her right now) down to Carrot Top, I felt like a solid Sarah Jessica Parker...minus the horseface.  Pre-race, I made my routine stop at the "Honey Buckets" (I'm still baffled by who actually named a portable toilet a term of endearment). These are actually hot commodities before a large race as this one and with the long lines you'd think we were all lining up with our golden ticket to see if the schnauzberries really taste like schaunzberries. While in line, I listened to a woman panic about how it was nearing race time. Annoyed, I decided to start talking to her, mainly so she'd just stop talking to herself. Asking her if she's run this course before was a bad choice. She proceeded to tell me how it was very challenging and she's running it again because she didn't finish the first time. Cool. Nice to meet you too Negative Nancy. I'm surprised if she even had to go to the bathroom after that since she had already shit on my spirit. 

Race pack momma packed for me :)

"Does this make me look gay?" Yes dad. haha

Chicks dig scars, guys dig bruises...right?

Heading to the start line

Dad did a good job documenting the other runners

He spotted me at between mile 1 and 2!

The gun went off and so did the runners. One would've thought we were running at 10 at night by the glow of the streetlights in the murky sky and 60 degree weather. The crowd of runners overwhelmed the street course causing me to hop on the sidewalk and dodge the fire hydrants that popped up in my way.  The incline of the course was steady and neverending and I felt as if I was exerting twice the amount of energy to only go half the distance. Honestly, by mile 4, my legs wanted to call it quits.  Mind over matter.  I was running an 8 minute pace for the first half, so while my body felt weary my mental strength kept me going.  There were some downhills as well,  but I spent the majority of my race praying for a plateau in the course.  The course was challenging, paved with some streets that reminded me of New Orleans and others that reminded me of Nashville.  I realized that I enjoy the parts of courses that are through neighborhoods- I think it just calms me. Perhaps it reminds me of home on my journey around the country. I kept telling myself to not focus on my time and the finish line finally arrived an 1:46:19 later. 


Compared to Florida, I felt physically weak.  But while I so badly wanted to beat my 1:44:50 I ran in Florida, I was satisfied with my 1:30 slower time because I gave it my all and that's all I really can do.  By the time I hit mile 9, I honestly didn't think I'd be finishing anywhere near running an 8:06 pace per mile. Post-race, I hit the shower and attempted amputating my toe. Which was disgusting and painful and I'll spare you the details (for once). And back to the roads with Bob.  The road trip ended having clocked 1,450 miles on good ol' Lady Slipper to run 13.1 and 25 hours to run for 2 hours. And no sight of Ludacris. sigh.

Thanks for road tripping & supporting me pops!

Race #2 COMPLETE! 1:46:19

Well, St. Louis is up next. I ran the full marathon in 2009 and made it my bitch, so I'm not worried about this one at all.  It's a fairly easy course and I'm dragging Daytona (my bestie, not the beach or the car race) out of bed to cheer me on. In fact, I'm attempting to drag all my friends from Mizzou and the book kiddos from Columbia all the way to St. Louis to cheer me on... but mainly so I can see them. (And by drag, I mean, once you guys read this, you should get the memo to be there- got it?)  I'm also totally stoked because my #1 blog follower THE Shaina Chechang & Laura Jones (some of my fav book kids from Iowa) are running the race too! Wahoooo! The race is two weeks from tomorrow and this past week, I've already upped my speed for hard training.  I've got two people to beat in STL: myself and my ex. Yes, I found out he's running it and his chance of beating me is about the same as his chance of him being a good person. And I'm also pretty sure he reads my blog, so Hi, you're going down. And you still suck. But more importantly, I can't wait to destroy my Florida time with a sub 1:43 time. Fingers crossed, laces tied.


So to quote my debut performance in Sandburg Middle School... Meet me in St. Louieee! (Clearly my acting didn't go far. I'm sticking to running.) Adios muchachos.