No words for Blue Ridge
I don't have the words to explain how awesome the Blue Ridge Half Marathon weekend was again this year.
With so many different people I know -- former co-workers, friends from high school, #RunChat friends, several other bloggers and an unusual amount of Iowans (hi Josh, Angie and Theresa!) -- taking part in it, the race itself has felt like just a small part of the weekend for a couple of years in a row.
The race, though, is what we all talk about before, during and after. It's crazy. It's nuts. It's brutal. It's painful. It's rewarding. It now has Peakwood in addition to Mill Mountain.
Take everything you could imagine about a race, both good and bad (and everything else in between), and that's what the Blue Ridge Half Marathon has become. I could only imagine what doing the full marathon would do to me.
On the way up Mill Mountain, in just the first three miles, I told my friend Josh (not the one from Iowa) that if I had any small desire left to do the full marathon, it was already gone.
Now I'm not so sure.
The Blue Ridge Half (and full) Marathon toys with my emotions. It has for 4 out of the past 5 years. Actually, even the one year I couldn't run after an injury it messed with my mind because I missed it so much.
If you happened to come here looking for some kind of race recap, I apologize for my lack of finding the right words to explain it.
It's just one of those race weekends that you have to experience yourself to fully understand why I have this reaction.