Peachtree Road Race 2011

Atlanta is hot.  Understatement of the century.  And this race was H-O-T.  Hot hot hot hot. Hot. 

I was in line behind a grandfather and his two evil grandchildren (a boy and a girl, ages 8 and 9, probably) who did nothing but hit each other and kick at shins for twenty minutes: you stop touching me, stop it, quit it, Grandpa, she hit me!  When Grandpa went in the porta potty, the boy pulled the girl’s braid so hard, I thought he would snap her neck.  “Hey,” I said, “You are both going to go to timeout if you don’t stop that.”  It came out of my mouth before I could stop it.  The kids looked at me like I had slapped them across their faces.  But they stopped, so that was good.

Oh, it was so hot (I can’t emphasize this enough) and I was pouring sweat waiting for the race to start.  Still, about ten minutes later we were running.  Mountain Goat was g-o-n-e before I could say “have a good race,” but I settled in and was feeling pretty good.

I must have missed the one mile mark, but I hit mile two before I knew what happened.  I glanced down at my Garmin:  22:23… hey, that’s not terrible, I thought.  Feeling okay.


What a great gathering of people.  I watched as the Statue of Liberty ran by, I passed a few ladies in sequined running skirts, and some women wearing mustaches (fake ones).  I zoomed passed people, I was zoomed past, I paced with one girl most of the run.  The spectators were encouraging and funny.

I slowed down to watch one of the runners pull off to do a keg stand with a bunch of his frat brothers.  Mmmmm…. beer….

At mile three (or so), I was feeling great.  I ran through the Holy Water, and that’s when things started going downhill.  Er, uphill.  Pretty soon after, I saw the “Cardiac Hill” I was warned about.  I pushed up and onward for as long I could take it.

My lawd, I was so HOT.

I ended up slowing down until I was at a ridiculous pace that could neither be called running or jogging, but was some sort of hybrid walk.

I don’t remember much about miles four and five.  I am not 100% sure I didn’t stop off and do a keg stand myself.  I can’t swear to it.

Before I knew it, mile six was approaching.  I managed to knock off one of my fuel belt bottles, and I had to backtrack to find it.  I really think it took me about thirty minutes to find it, and I was actually on Mountain Goat’s trail the whole time. Ha.

I crossed the finish line at 1:15:15 (regardless of the fact that the Peachtree Results said 1:26:45 something… liars). I pressed “start” at the beginning on my Garmin and “stop” when I crossed the finish line… I’m not sure where I lost eleven minutes sayeth the Peachtree, but I am okay with a 1:15:15 time, and I am not okay with the other time.

I mean, I did the run portion of St. Anthony’s in 1:14:59… I wouldn’t think I would been eleven minutes behind that (after a swim and a bike)… But what does it really matter?  It doesn’t.

I was glad to see the finish line, pick up my t-shirt, Popsicle and banana (and pose for some ridiculous finisher photos with Mountain Goat).  I can’t wait for the Marathon Foto ones.  We were in high gear post-race stupid.

After a bit, we skipped on over to the Nook, a great little place near Piedmont Park, where we finally got a table and partook of a crazy fishbowl margaritaesque concoction.

A great day.