Along the Natchez Trace
Half marathons have the worst name ever. “Half” makes them sound wimpy like “Whopper Jr.” or something. It’s really a ripoff of a name, if you ask me. You run one and you don’t feel like you you’ve been loafing. Running 13.1 miles is a challenge in its own right. In fact, if you ask me, it’s my favorite distance. You definitely earn respect from other runners. Maybe we should petition for it to get it’s own, cool name. Something like gutbuster or lungcruncher maybe. I’ll see about getting a new name right after I get Pluto reinstated as a planet.
I ran a half marathon this morning. Not an official race (I’ve run several half marathons). No, I ran it training. My GPS watch chimed in at 13.1 miles right as I got back to the house. My path? I ran the Ridgeland Multipurpose Trail, in the Simmons Arboretum, along the Natchez Trace, along the Reservoir and in my neighborhood. There were lots of hills and at times, a very stiff, cold headwind. My pulse ranged from 144 to 180. I managed to find water along my path, although the cool temperatures meant I only drank two bottles. It was a great run. A run where I burned 2,097 calories.
I’m thinking I’m going to sign up for the Mississippi Blues Half Marathon. It’s such a well-organized race. And I enjoy running a race where I see so many of my friends. And if I keep this mileage up, I’ll think about another marathon, too. Life is more fun when you set audacious goals. Even if they do have wimpy names.
I once read a blog where the writer called them Fun Size Marathons. He compared them to the smaller, but no less wonderful versions of candy bars. They aren’t 1/2 Snickers or 1/2 Milky Ways, they are Fun Size Snickers.