Another half-

Ms. Citizen, no doubt encouraged by her strong solo performance at the Army Ten Miler while I was in Montreal, believes we can have another go at a half-marathon. I didn’t want to comment on our previous performance here until I knew whether we would have a chance to redeem it, but the truth is that very few things are as oppressive and disappointing as a bad long run.

We were spoiled, though. We had come out of a 5k looking forward to an 8k. Then a 10k, then a ten-miler. Then, finally, a half-marathon. Up to the half-, we had gotten better and better with every race. Our pace was improving, and we can honestly look back at a few those – like the Cherry Blossom – and feel the exhilaration of wildly outperforming our expectations. Especially because we started out poorly – unfocused, cold, shivering as a result of the awful weather. And at about an 11-minute clip. Around mile 3, we both realized that we desperately needed to pee – which cost us another 2-3 minutes (I timed it – it was a long one.)

We shot out of that restroom along the tidal basin as if out of a cannon, though, and proceeded to knock the crap out of the pavement – probably pacing around 8:30 or so – to finish the race at a 9:50 overall. Almost as thrilling: having a large Irish breakfast and three Guinness after the race. Also almost as thrilling: sleeping for three hours after the breakfast.

But so the Virginia Beach half-marathon was the opposite. We just never clicked into the race. By mile 6, we were already way off our ten-miler time, and it was obvious we wouldn’t be able to make it back. Months of preparation, and there you are, an hour into the race, an hour to go, and you basically know that finishing is not going to be a relief, it’s not going to be invigorating – it’s just going to be a huge disappointment. The panic is a further distraction, a nagging reminder that you are about to underperform, and motivating yourself in the face of that is hard.

We had good excuses - oppressive humidity and heat, for example. People often die at this race, and we saw dozens of runners being helped with oxygen masks, or being carried off to the shoulder. But that wasn't it. I think we just got beaten, psychologically, before the race ever started.

I was a little down on running for a few weeks afterwards, and we basically haven’t gone on a run longer than 6 miles or so since then. But the promise of another half- in the spring is good enough for me. It’ll, weirdly, help get me through the winter – it’ll keep me honest in terms of going to the gym (especially after long nights at Wizards games drinking two-for-one Sierras courtesy of my man Ron) and it’ll offer us a chance to finish the damn thing in just a shade over two hours. I hope.

And if that doesn’t happen, I’m going to be a sorely frustrated runner. Again.