Okay, so I finally got around to sharing how my run went at the San Francisco Half Marathon. It all started a few months back, when my buddy Jim kept bugging me to sign up with him. He was like, “Dude, it’s gonna be epic,” and I just said, “Why not?” That same night, I went online and registered. Easy-peasy, right? Clicked a few buttons, paid the fee, and boom—I was in.
Getting Ready
Once I had the confirmation email, I knew I had to get serious about training. My couch was calling me back, but I ignored it and started running most evenings after work. Not super intense, just building up slow. I mapped out routes near my place using my phone’s GPS. Most days, I’d drag myself out for 3–5 miles, and sometimes on weekends, I’d push for 8–10. Felt kinda rough at first, like my legs were screaming, “Stop already!” But after a couple weeks, it got better. I even threw in some stuff like:
- Stretching in the park to avoid sore muscles
- Eating more pasta and bananas—turns out, carbs are your friends
- Setting alarms to force myself out of bed early
Honestly, the prep was messy. One week, I skipped runs ’cause it rained nonstop, and I ended up binge-watching shows instead. But hey, life happens.
Race Day Madness
Come race morning, I woke up way before dawn—like 4 AM—and felt like a zombie. Downed some coffee and a quick snack, then threw on my gear: old running shoes, a hoodie, and my lucky socks. Drove to the start line downtown, and man, it was packed. Crowds everywhere, music blasting, and the energy was electric. I met up with Jim, we did some warm-ups, and before I knew it, the gun went off. The whole thing kicked off in a blur of cheers and shuffling feet.
Now, the actual running part? Starts off smooth and fun. First few miles flew by as we cruised through the city streets. But then came the hills. Ugh, they hit hard near mile 8. My legs started burning, and I was gasping for air—felt like climbing a mountain in slow motion. I pushed through by focusing on one step at a time. Around mile 10, a volunteer handed out water, and that little splash kept me going. The last mile felt endless, but seeing that finish line was pure relief. I sprinted the final stretch, arms in the air, and crossed over with a stupid grin on my face.
The Big Finish and Results
After catching my breath at the finish area, I grabbed the medal—shiny and heavy!—and hunted down my official time. They had big screens showing times rolling in live. Scrolled through, found my name in the middle of the pack, no surprises there. Finished with a decent time for me, nothing to brag about but I’ll take it. Jim did better, the showoff. Later, when I got home, I checked the full results online. Winners were posted right away, with killer times that blew my mind.
Overall, this run was a blast, even with all the sweat and pain. Felt awesome to be part of the hype, and it’s cool knowing those results are out now for anyone to see. Next time, I’m aiming for a better pace—maybe cut down on the Netflix binges during training. But hey, no regrets.
