BRRR!!! It’s Cold!!! I left San Antonio at 90-degrees and
landed in Anchorage at 34-degrees. I had been doing really well with my running
training this year, but I wasn’t sure what would happen in the cold. I’m a
fair-weather exerciser. But, I looked up some events before I arrived and
planned to get in a run before it got too cold. I even packed a costume to wear
for the Zombie Half. Day after I arrived Flinster invited me for a 1.6 mile
Munchkin Trail Run. It was cold and my lungs were screaming. Running in the
cold was going to be tough.
Thursday after work, I drove downtown and signed up for the
Zombie Half Marathon put on by the Anchorage Running Club. Figured, I could
walk if I needed too. It would be a great way to see some beautiful areas of
Anchorage. I planned to start with the walker wave, because I knew I would be
slow…slower than usual, anyway. After picking up my shirt at Skinny Raven (cool
name for a running store … or any store for that matter), I drove to REI and
bought some light thermal liners to wear under my outfit. 
Saturday morning, I thought about the possible error of my ways. It was cold. I put on my liners and my kit and headed out. The race was point-to-point and I solicited the generous help of one of the other docs to pick me up at the finish and drop me at the start. Not only did she agree, but she stayed with me to let me hang in her warm car until the start.
Mile 2—No longer so cold. Glad I didn’t wear the balaclava because now my neck is warm and the thermals might be a bit much.
Mile 3—Stopped dead in my tracks by this amazing view.
Mile 4—First water stop, with zombies and tombstones. I topped off my water. Surprised that I was drinking more than in the ghastly heat of Texas, but it is dryer here.
Mile 5—Now that’s a strange feeling. Never got a calf cramp before. Must be the cold. So, back to the plan of walking the rest of the way.
Mile 6—I’m cold again. Have to figure out a walk-run interval that keeps me warm, but doesn’t make the calf cramp get too bad.
Mile 7—First runners passed me at almost exactly the time I expected them too. Is he seriously wearing only running shorts and a singlet?
Mile 8—Amazing views of what I think might be Denali? Turns out to be the Alaska Range I don’t know, but it’s beautiful.
Mile 10—Low flying big planes at the end of the international airport runway. Can’t see the runway, but the planes seem like they are about to touch the trees.
Mile 12—At the end of my walk interval and time to run. I will start running at the top of the hill just around the curve … not yet, more hill … more hill … more hill … more hill … just around the corner and I see the finish line … at the top of more hill. At this point, I have to at least run the finish, right?
Aaaannnndddd, done!!!! Medal received, thank you. My official time is about 10 minutes slower than my Garmin time, but that’s probably about right … 10 minutes worth of stopping for pictures. Now to my car before I start getting cold.
I heard a few people complain about the lack of aid stations, but I wasn’t disappointed. It was clear on the website that there were only 2 and had only water and Gatorade. For a local trail run by a running club, I wouldn’t expect a lot more. Less than 1000 runners and it’s expensive to have aid stations every mile.
And again, thanks InkNBurn for making me a semi-celebrity. At the beginning, I caught some people surreptitiously taking pictures of my outfit. Lots of “great costume” comments to my face and whispered behind my back. Got a high-five from a passing faster runner for my “cool outfit.” My favorites of the day … “Now, that’s just bad-ass.” “Best skeleton costume all day.” “Cute wiggly bony butt.”
