I survived my first half-marathon!

And man, it feels good to be done!

On Sunday morning, Garrett and I took the 9am train from Antwerp to Amsterdam. It was cool and overcast, not the sunshine and warmth promised in the weekly forecast. Honestly, I didn’t care. We ran 12 miles the Saturday prior in the pouring rain. I was more prepared for mediocre weather than GREAT weather.

We arrived at the site around 12:15pm, the race started at 1:30pm. We were just two people in a sea of thousands. Approximately 13,000 people ran in this race.

How did it go? Good! I broke two hours and averaged slightly under a 9 minute pace. Those were my two goals! Finishing time: 1:57, on the dot! The last 6km were my fastest, so training for negative splits paid off.

Here’s my breakdown:

Garrett did an awesome job, finishing in 1:33. I’m not delusional enough to compete with my husband in athletics. He’s a rockstar, and I’m happy he’s mine.

All in all, I felt pretty good during the run. Throughout my training, I practiced starting slow and finishing fast (or faster). Come race day, your adrenaline makes you want to rush out with the crowd crossing the start line. But, I kept my pace slow and steady, letting people pass by me in that first mile. My dad told me to just focus on pace the first half, so that’s what I did. I found my stride and stayed at a steady, comfortable speed, hoping to leave enough fuel for the last miles. And it worked! Those same people in my start group who passed me in the beginning, I was passing in the end.

Though I ran the last 5k at my fastest, they were still tough. My legs were tired, but I was pushing to give it all I had left. I trained for 14 weeks, there was no way I wasn’t going to leave it all out on the road! I kept thinking, 3 more miles is nothing! But gosh, those last 3 miles felt sooo long. The last 500 meters felt long! I just remember looking at my watch at the end, and thinking I’ve got to make 1:57 and not a second after.

Crossing the finish line, I felt this huge wave of relief and accomplishment. Garrett was waiting for me and gave me a big hug. Then, he told me we are going to Rome next week!! Seriously!? What an incredible surprise! I have the best husband ever!! Through all my moments of self doubt, he gave me confidence and told me I was strong enough. By race day, I actually believed him. And now, all the lame Saturday nights we stayed in and went to bed early in preparation for this race, have paid off. Success!

When I was a kid, my mom use to run half-marathons. I thought she was the coolest, strongest woman alive. And well, I guess that speaks to the examples our parents can set for us. Thanks, Mom

This weekend Mike came back to Antwerp after traveling for two weeks in Prague, Budapest and Austria by himself. We spent Friday evening at home. I cooked lamb chops and made a pasta salad with roasted eggplant, red onion, peppers and feta. Also a big green salad on the side; Mike said it had been a while since he had eaten any vegetables!

Saturday morning we woke up to rain and a 12 mile run on the agenda for Garrett and me. I told Garrett we should go out on our own pace this time and run separately. This worked so much better for both of us. I didn’t have the pressure of keeping up with him, or not slowing him down, and he was able to work on his time. The end result was me having a nice, comfortable run and him finishing like… 20 minutes before me. Sounds about right! That was our last long training run before the half marathon this coming Sunday. I’m feeling good about it, and so ready for it to be over!

After our run, the boys went to Brugge and I relaxed at home as it continued to rain most of the day. That evening we went out to eat at a Belgian cafe nearby and then headed over to a friend’s place for a get together. We ended up staying out way too late (no idea how that happened!) but were somehow able to rally the next morning and proceed with our weekend plans.

We ended up getting a car for Sunday and Monday, Garrett took Monday off work. We set out for the Ardennes to show Mike the beautiful landscape of the other side of Belgium, which is the countryside. About two hours from Antwerp, we stopped at Hautes Fagnes National Park where we hiked for a little under two hours.

The path was virtually flat, so I use the term “hiking” lightly. Still, it was cool. Most of the time we were walking on boardwalks over bogs. The temperature was chilly to start, but once we got into the open field and out of the forest, it was down right cold with no coverage from the wind. And then naturally, it started raining.

Back at the trailhead there was an information hut for us to go inside and get warm. We sat by the huge fire pit in the middle of the lobby so our fingers could thaw out. Then we hit the road for Durbuy, “the smallest town in the world” where we planned to stay the night. That drive was supposed to be an uneventful forty minutes, but our navigation system ended up taking us through the woods on unpaved roads that I’m sure no sane person has driven on in years. We must have been driving through there for twenty minutes, all of which my knuckles were white from clenching onto my seat. I seriously thought we were going to get stuck in the dirt, or the bottom of our car was going to fall out. It wasn’t pretty, but we made it out to tell the story.

The town of Durbuy is cute and charming, lined with restaurants and hotels. We booked pretty much the first hotel we saw, and were very happy with our accommodations! We also had dinner there, and were in bed by 10pm.

The next morning we had a great breakfast at our hotel, which reminded me a lot of breakfast in France. Different types of breads were set out, salami, ham, cheeses, soft boiled eggs, and a big bowl of whole fruits. And actually, in the Ardennes I always feel like I’m in France. For one, they speak French there, but it’s also the overall feel in the towns. I love it.

We woke up to rain, but it managed to clear out by the time we stepped outside. We drove a short distance to Grottes de Hotton and made it there just in time to catch a tour of the cave! Of course, we were the only three English speaking people in our large group, but the guide was kind enough to stay back and explain everything after he had already said it in French and Dutch. It blows my mind how many languages most Europeans know. And it makes me quite embarrassed for myself.

The cave was pretty amazing, 35 meters deep. I had never toured a cave before so this was pretty neat for me, apparently we have a lot of them here in Belgium! After the tour we went behind the site and took a fifteen minute stroll through the Jardin Calestienne that lead us to a beautiful panoramic view. So nice to see the colors changing for fall!

And that was our weekend. We made it back to Antwerp around 4pm on Monday after the boys stopped at the beer store to stock up for Mike’s return home. This morning, Garrett drove him to the train station nice and early and I woke up to rain…again. Tis the season in Belgium.

It’s amazing that Mike arrived in Antwerp three weeks ago. He was the last of our string of visitors that started in the spring and carried us into fall. We had been anticipating his stay forever, and now just like that… it’s almost November. It reminds me how incredibly fast this year has flown by, and what that says for the next two years of our life here in Europe. I guess it’s about time we start planning for 2013!

Another thing to check off the list. Oktoberfest in Munich, Germany.

That’s my friend Kim, who flew in from the States just for the weekend’s festivities. She actually arrived Thursday morning before Garrett and I, so we hooked her up with our Antwerp friends who were also flying in Thursday morning. They enjoyed a day at the tents and we met up with them Friday mid morning at the fair grounds. Look, she even wore a dirndl for the occasion!

Garrett’s brother Mike got into Antwerp Wednesday. We took an early morning flight to Munich Friday and pretty much headed straight to the fairgrounds upon our arrival. We were told that if we weren’t at our tent by 11:30am sharp, our reserved table wouldn’t be there. All was fine though, we were a few minutes late (after running from our hotel through the city to the site) but our spot was still there and so were our friends.

The tent was quite a scene. Thousands of people in their dirndls and lederhosen, liters of beer in hand. Because we had a reservation, we did not have to wait in line to get into the tent. We also had vouchers for food (half of a chicken per person) and tickets for not one, but three liters of beer. Let me just say that you probably should not have more than two… and I’ll leave it at that. 

Saturday we woke up not ready to do it all again at 8am, which is what time the rest of our group was heading to the tents. Garrett, Mike and I opted for breakfast in the city instead, and headed to the fairgrounds around 11am. We tried to meet up with our friends but the Hofbrauhaus tent that they were in was packed and had a waiting line. Garrett and I weren’t to anxious to drink more beer anyway, but it was a shame we didn’t get to see Kim who had headed to the tent in the morning with the guys.

We spent a few hours touring the city, went back to the tents later to see if the crowd had cleared up, but if anything, it had gotten worse! I will say the atmosphere on Saturday was way more chaotic than what we took part in on Friday. The Hofbrauhaus tent in particular seemed to be filled with college kids (I’m talking thousands) jam packed crowded, and to say it was “rowdy” is an understatement. All together an unpleasant scene (especially for someone who was sober). I was ready to escape the fairgrounds asap after a second failed attempt at meeting our friends in the tent. Around 4pm our crew called us and we met them back at their hotel room. Most of them were taking “cat naps” (aka – passed out).

I have to be honest, I was hesitant about going to Oktoberfest. Garrett and I convinced ourselves that it was a once and a lifetime thing and probably the only time we would do it. I’m glad for the experience, and I’m especially grateful that we had a reserved table on Friday, it made everything a lot easier. And we did have fun! The crowd on Friday seemed far more tame than the weekenders, their were older people, more locals and less idiots. It could have had something to do with that particular tent too, I don’t know.

Do I have any desire to go back? No. It just wasn’t my scene. Though I do think I probably saw only one side of it, and it doesn’t help that I came home with an awful cold on Sunday. Everyone dressed in the traditional garb of dirndls and lederhosen was pretty cool. And it was quite the fest with music and people joined together from all over the world. I’m sure there were tents on Saturday that were better contained than the infamous Hofbrauhaus… but I couldn’t help but think to myself, “God, I’m too old for this.” But to each their own!