The Motorola Half

We took hot showers and drank hot coffee to warm our bones. We donned running tights and sweat pants, long-sleeved shirts and wind-breaking vests. We wore the closest thing we have to winter coats. And we went with hats and gloves.

Yesterday at that time, the ground was covered in snow. Today, it was gone (except for the melted remains of snowmen built by children and parents up and down the street, and except for a great snow-boulder rolled by the diesel-driving Bubbas on the corner).

The snow was gone. But it was still plenty cold.

So we bundled up and headed out with night still over the city. Thousands of others converged on the spot. We passed the hard-core runners warming up on the hill. We passed shivering people and their radiating smiles. The music was blaring. And the lines were forming at the porta-potties, although we scored big-time and found some with lines only two people deep.

It was her race. We ran together at her pace.

We ran by the sliver of woods that remains near the malls and the restaurants and the office buildings in North Austin. We ran across the highway and watched the sun rise before us. We ran along the tracks, where a south-bound Union Pacific train flew past us, pulling empty gondola cars back to some quarry far away.

The wind blew in our faces. The sun felt warm.

We ran up and down hills -- down much more than up. We ran by bagpipes and jazz bands and drummers drumming cadences that made our nerves tingle. We ran past rock bands and neighborhoods gathered by the curb (in defiance of the cold) to cheer us with coffee in their hands.

As we turned south, the wind bothered us no more.

We ran down the hill on Duval and thru UT around the last turn. And with the finish line in sight, we let it go and finished strong. We beat 2:30 with time to spare.

2:26:09.

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