Hotlanta Half Marathon Report

(by Jay Elliot)

In the days leading up to the Hotlanta Half Marathon, the race director (Tony with Peak Racing Events – a great guy with a good support team) monitored the weather closely.   With T minus 3 days until they fired the gun, it looked like a storm front had the potential to either ruin the fun or force Tony to cancel the race.   A grim possibility, but in the end, the weather did not confirm our fears.  I showed up at 5:30 AM to find a small sea of volunteers setting up nourishments.  The starting gate was already there.  It was made of a red rubber material, fully inflated, and with the word Hotlanta painted across both sides.  In the green space by the World of Coke, vendors set up their tents and tables in the expo.  I really like the positive atmosphere that races can create. 

I had brought two pairs of shoes to the race.  The first was a ratty old pair of Brooks Ghost 10 that was coming apart at the toe box.  The second was a brand new pair of Mizuno Inspire.  I warmed up in both.  I did not have time to run many miles in the Inspire, and I did not feel that they were broken in properly.   My intuition told me that the old pair was the right one to use on that day. 

I went back to the car with the new shoes.  In the paid parking lot on Williams Street, I noticed that I had situated my vehicle a little outside the diagonal lines that marked the spaces.  There was a young woman parked to my left, and I decided that I would pull forward and straighten up so I would not crowd her passenger door.  I must have had my mind on the race, because the next thing I knew, a lady in the car behind me shouted, “You are hitting my car.  What are you doing?”  That was not what I wanted to hear just then.  The contact was between the flexible plastic of my back bumper and the front of hers.  It was so light that I had no idea it happened.  After a bit of heated (but understandable) frustration on her part, we made peace.  She took a picture of my insurance card.  It was 6:20 AM, and we skipped calling the police.  All that would work out fine in the days to follow. 

So it was with a mild aggravation that I found the 2:00 pace group and put my toe behind the invisible line that divides runners of different speeds.  My goal going into the race was to run the whole way, but I knew that it was possible that I would not be able to go without walking some.  You may have heard that the Hotlanta is a tough course.  I can confirm that.  It was a beast.  When they started us, there were 2,000 runners.  Things thinned out fairly quickly.   I deliberately held back.  We faced the first hill before the mile 1 post.  It was nothing to be trifled with I can tell you, a long upward slant.  I felt my quads engage.

Along the way, I saw some beautiful things.  You pass the ferris wheel at the very beginning.  Then the course goes across the I-75/I-85 overpass.  The campus of Georgia Tech comes after that, and then the wave goes through Piedmont Park.  You basically run right beside the front door of the Cyclorama at mile 10. 

Some of what was beautiful were other living things.  I saw the raw courage of a high school cross county coach cheering one of her runners up a big hill.  There were a few people pushing special needs children up the inclines.  That was pretty inspiring.  One guy was using a hand crank to power his way up.  He had one partner on each side.  I cheered and raved for these good folks.

Now, I must tell you that I started to feel fatigue at mile 6.  It would have been too difficult for me if I had not conserved energy.  I took water at every aid station, and it was not that hot at all, but for some reason, my stomach began to act up at mile 4 and did not stop throughout.  I carried a small pack of trail mix in the pack around my waist.  Nibbling on it may have been a mistake.  I wanted to vomit and relieve the suffering, but I did not have enough on board to make it happen.  What can you do?  I pressed on.

It seems like there is a bit of magic in each race, and for me, it usually comes in the form of someone who is going at the right speed at the correct time.  I fell in sync with a gentleman of about 60 during the pass through Piedmont Park.  It was great between us until he powered up the next hill.  I am a determined runner, but right then, I decided that I could live with myself if I let him cruise on along.

By the top of that hill (past mile 10), my calves were in full arrest.  I gritted my teeth and set my jaw, and tried to calm my breathing and relax while focusing on form.  I’d done physical therapy to stabilize the ankles and hips, and I think that worked to my advantage.  Once the mile 12 hill was behind me, I knew I could make it.  I crossed the line in 1:59 with a huge grin.  I pumped my fist and ran into the arms of a mascot wearing a tutu, grinning broadly, and slapping hands. 

The expo was wonderful.  On a hot day, I can see how it would have looked like an oasis in the desert.  There were two physical therapists giving free injury evaluations.  I was not hurt, but availed myself of that service (and some food) nevertheless.  It felt so good to walk. 

The Hotlanta Half was very well done.  I recommend it as a middle distance training run.  It provided opportunity for both strengthening the legs and conditioning the heart + lung axis.  A young woman won it overall with a time of 5:59 per mile.  I cannot imagine.

Thanks for reading.  I hope to see some of you at the 50^th Annual Peachtree Road Race.  

Jay Elliott