I think I'm done with distance now. This past Sunday I completed the Disneyland Half Marathon along with my friend Jessica and her mom. I barely trained, so I owe my performance 100% to Jess's encouragement and pacing. I also broke my number 1 rule adopted after the SF Marathon: no pre-7am start times.

This race started at 6am and we were instructed to be in the gate by 4:30am. Bwah hahahaha. Yeah right. We got there around 5:15am and that was still too early - though I was glad not to be in the way far back - it only took us 15 minutes to actually pass the mat after Curt Pringle fired the gun.

Our hotel was actually a short walk from the start, as two eager beavers informed us as they strode confidently out the door at 4:20am for coffee, still wearing their matching teevas. Jess calculated that a 10 minute walk meant two-thirds of a mile or so - a distance that only matters if you add it to an hour wait time and 13.1 additional miles. So we waited forever for an eventually windowless (I mean, openings, no glass) shuttle bus to transport us the very long, cold way to the start line. Highlight: the bus stalling at the second hotel it serviced, a location further away than our own hotel. It worked out fine, though.

Standing in the pre-dawn, still, cold air, I wondered what in the hell I was doing. Soon, though, music blared, shots were fired, and we started shuffling our way to the actual point we could start running. Mickey and Minnie were there to high-five everyone, and a monorail full of characters was parked overhead, waving us through.

The first four miles or so were great fun - through California Adventure (where I'd never been, but would like to go for reals, not just for racing) and then Disneyland itself. It was a bit too short a pass, however, and it was followed by 8 or so miles of scenic Anaheim. That monotony was broken by numerous bands and dance troupes. Hard to enjoy when you're focused on passing them, but a nice distraction.

This was the first race I've ever run without an iPod strapped to my arm. Having company made that okay, but there were still moments when no amount of wheezing conversation was going to drown out the "stopppp, nowww, pleasssee" in my head.

The first 6 miles went relatively quickly. Miles 7 and 8 were alright. After that, I experienced a quick review of all my full marathon training. In a span of a mile, I hit cardio fatigue, muscle aches, and finally, that beloved joint pain that traveled slowly up my legs and settled in my hips. Ah, memories.

Training comes out in those last few miles and I was suffering for my lack of it by the time we crossed the parking lot and ran onto the field at Angels' Stadium. I was stuck at slow jog, unable to pace my walk with Jessica's fast walk, and already too slow to keep up with her run. I hated playing catch-up, but I would've broken 3 hours had I not had that incentive to push it for the last 2+ miles.

The sun was up and beating down by the time we passed under the freeway again and headed back into California Adventure. We passed through the Downtown Disney streets and into the finish chutes. Dammit, distance sucks.

Nothing says job well done like the immediate seizure of your lower extremities and the strapping of a heavy, bothersome medal around your sweaty, irritated neck.

After stamping happily on the mat to clock out of the race, I stumbled over to have my chip removed, receive my medal, and then fell into the food tent, tearing into a bagel and a bottle of Dasani like there was no tomorrow.

A bunch of Jess's workmates - mostly Stag and Athena RISLOGers - met us in the finisher area. I'd have sold my medal for some shades and a parasol, but it was nice to be among the happy and tired crowds and to know that, finally, not only would I not have to worry about training, but I wouldn't have to worry about feeling guilty about not training.

There's an interesting form of immediate-onset amnesia that occurs as a runner passes the finish line. You forget the pain and the training and the joint pain and think, "hey, when's the next one?" Contrasted with the 13.1 - or 26.2 - miles of "f this s, never again," it's quite a change.

I would consider another half, but I think this first half experience confirms that I'm not likely going to pursue another full - and I'm fine with that. I do have a few events scheduled - but they are marathon relays. Six miles? No problem. 26 and a .2? Problem.

So that's that.

Now if only I can get this stabbing pain out of my right foot, I'll be back on track. Figuratively and literally. It might not make sense, but these long events have really interfered with the kind of regular work out I'd like to pursue. They've distracted more than interfered. Again, not that I was training, but the cloud of upcoming distance made my usual carefree days in the gym seem like I was shirking work. Blah.

Christiana Dominguez Phoblographer.com