Aramco Houston Half Marathon

I woke up this morning with two goals. First, set a new personal course record for myself (2006 - 2:42, 2007 - 2:27). Second, put my performance at the Rock 'N' Roll San Antonio half (2:25) away as a bad dream. After my horrid experience with the traffic at RNRSA, I made a point of getting up at 4 a.m., taking in a decent breakfast of a bell-pepper omelet and Nutella-flavored oatmeal, and driving downtown early. While attending the 5:45 a.m. Mass we could clearly hear the praise being sung at the Protestant service across the convention center floor, and I pondered the diversity in our race.

Would you believe I almost forgot my timing chip? I returned to my car, strapped on the chip with my Road ID ankle strap and then met my sister and some of her friends at the nearby Hilton. She needed to make a bathroom stop of her own immediately before gun time, so I bid her well and joined my corral just as the first wave was starting. I was right behind a young guy who was wearing a Sully (Monsters Inc.) costume and I laughed.

A few minutes later, a second cannon blast beckoned us forward. The thick crowd was definitely retarding me during mile 1 (11:19) but I suppose I should be grateful that I wasn't allowed to start too fast. After the pack loosened up I settled into a solid ten-minute-mile groove for the next eight miles.

It was during this time that I remembered why I love this day in Houston. The city comes out for the spectacle and I feed voraciously off the crowds:

• The cluster of Elvii waiting for us on the Elysian Viaduct
• The family on their Woodland Heights porch chanting "Vaminos!"
• The little kids competing with each other in collecting the most runner high-fives: "174! . . .175! . . . 176! "
• The high school band playing a march while I jog by, miming a cornet with my Amphipod handstrap bottle.
• Yelling "Do I smell donuts? Who has the donuts" and hearing a man on the sidewalk answering "Tom (pointing at the bib on the runner next to me) over there is hiding them from you."
• Running by the crowd at the campus of my alma mater and calling out, "St. Thomas, show your alumni some love!"
• More, more, and more cowbell!
• The guy on Milam Street holding up a boombox and treating us to "Gonna Fly Now" from Rocky in our final mile.

By mile 11, I was on the sun-drenched concrete of Allen Parkway and my pace fell off to the point where I knew for sure an all-time PR wasn't in the making. But as I ran under the finishing arch with the Romanian woman who took second female in the full marathon race, I was satisfied with my run. I had clocked a 2:15, my third-fastest half marathon and my new best time on this course -- pretty much right where I thought I would be.

After entering the convention center and grasping my finisher medal, the very next volunteer put a package of Girl Scout cookies in my free hand. Then I made a beeline for the HEB Creamy Creations booth and took down some truly-refreshing chocolate ice cream. Next I got some breakfast chow from the main food line and sat down to eat. It was then that I got a surprising text message from my sister announcing she was on the final mile.

I finished my plate and wandered back across the convention center floor. A few minutes later I spotted a finisher medal around my sister's neck. I picked her up, twirled her around and congratulated her. It turned out that she had mistakenly thought the start time was 7:30, and when she did get out there, she was lost for the first mile. But she too had fed off the crowd energy and ran much of the course, finishing in 2:54. As we stood in line for our finisher shirts, I told her how proud I was of her. Her knees were aching a lot and she'll likely be very sore tomorrow, but we were all rookies once, right?

This is now my fourth January in a row to run the city, and now I really feel as if I would miss out if I'm not involved in it in some way while I live here. Taking part in the 5K, half, full, or volunteering, I will definitely be back in some capacity in 2010.