Orca Half Marathon 2026

It took me a week to come to terms with how this race went, and to be completely honest, I'm probably still not over it. I'm struggling to let go of what I know could have been in the face of how it actually went.

After returning from Bali, Matt and I both dealt with some weird gastrointestinal issues. Our appetites were miniscule. The tiniest meals left us uncomfortably full for hours longer than they should have. Naturally, that meant that in the ten days leading up to the race, I was eating significantly less than usual.

My training pretty much ended when I flew to Singapore on August 27. I ran my last long run (13.5 miles) on August 22 and one final pre-vacation run (5 miles) on the 26th. In Bali, I ran twice, but neither were really about training. Upon returning, I ran one more time on the Tuesday before race day, and I felt really good, despite the run being preceded by a gnarly bathroom emergency.

Anyway, on the evening before the race, I was still in denial that it was really happening. I assumed my body would either remember how to run a half or it wouldn't, and that would be that.

And it did remember! That wasn't the problem at all.

At 6am on race morning, I had a toaster pastry and espresso with milk, my usual pre-race meal. I felt full, but our wave's start was 7:50, so I wasn't too concerned. I walked over to Melissa's and hitched a ride with her to the start line, stopping briefly at the finish to grab Nick on the way. At 6am, 

At the start, we had plenty of time to use the bathroom (and pop an Imodium, my need for which should have alerted me that my stomach was not doing well), check our bags, and get pre-race pics. We had perfect weather. Melissa wanted to see how fast she could go; Nick and I were planning to start conservatively and see what happened from there.

Melissa's friend Dian signed up when she heard us talking about this race a few months ago. It was her first!

The first mile was fine. It was a congested start, so we kept our pace easy and tried not to dodge or weave too much. We naively chatted about how maybe my body would actually love having had three weeks off, and maybe we'd run our best half yet.

So full of hope.

We were ready when we hit the first hill at mile 1.5, but from there, things got tough. I had forgotten the first three miles consisted of quite a few rolling hills with significant climbs. My heart rate rocketed up to 180 and pretty much refused to drop.

I ate my first gel at 2.5 as planned, and as I had been practicing throughout my training. But I was still full from breakfast, and the gel just sat in my stomach like a rock. I took sips of Nuun, but rather than refreshing me, it added to the lump in my gut.

This is seriously cruel.

After mile 3, the course dips down from Lincoln Park toward Alki. The downhill was welcome, and I had some time to inventory how I felt. My legs felt fresh; they actually felt good! My breathing was finally evening out. I thought maybe I was getting into the zone. My splits reflect that miles 4 and 5 were the strongest part of the race for me, and the only time my pace dipped into the 9s at all.

My plan was to eat my second gel at mile 5, and despite my stomach not feeling great, I forged ahead with that plan. Mistake. That second gel turned the stomach-rock into a boulder, and from that point on, I knew my plans, and any goals I'd had, were toast. I spent the rest of the race burping (poor Nick) and wishing I could just make myself puke. Anything for a clean slate and an empty stomach.

Mile 5ish

The rest of the race went by in a burpy, lethargic haze. I usually eat four gels during a half, but I couldn't stomach my last two. I could barely stomach my Nuun. The lack of appetite over the previous ten days coupled with my inability to take more fuel led to an absolutely empty tank. I just had no energy. Nick kept telling me to ignore my watch, but as time slipped by, I found myself growing more and more dejected.

Keeping up appearances at mile 6.

For the second half of the race, all I could think about what how I had followed my training plan to a T. I had so many great training runs. My only goal for this race was to beat last year's time, and that window was closed. This was my last half of the year, my year of one race a season, and rather than being a crowning achievement, it was becoming the year's biggest disappointment.

Spotted: teeny tiny Space Needle.

Around mile 11.5, Nick's back started to hurt. He took a walk break; I kept going, desperate to get just to the end. I now wish I had stayed with him, but at the time I thought he might walk for awhile, and I just wanted to try to find some momentum.

As far as choices I made that contributed to the day's disaster, eating the second gel and leaving Nick are my only two regrets.

In those last couple miles, I pushed as hard as I could. I honestly felt like I was going to blow up before I finally made it to the finish line. When I turned into the park, I heard my name. Melissa came running up to the finishing chute, yelling for me. I felt the first burst of joy of the day, and ran through the finish with a smile.

2:30, 22/29 in my age group.

It's been ten years since I've run a 2:30+ half, and I was recovering from a full at the time. This race was my 20th half marathon, I had really wanted it to go better than this. Anyway, I digress.

I missed Nick's finish less than a minute behind me because I was doubled over on a railing, blinking away dark spots. Like I said, if I'd known he was going to pick it back up so quickly, I would have stuck with him and finished together.

Eventually, we all reconvened. Melissa had secured an amazing PR, proof that her training had paid off. Nick and I finished within a minute of each other. It was my slowest half marathon in years.

At the end of the day, I earned this medal.

And I know how lucky I am to have a friend who sticks by me like Nick did.

And I'm thrilled for Melissa, who finished in 2:12, absolutely destroying her original goal!

We went to brunch, as is tradition, but my appetite wouldn't let me truly enjoy it. This race checked the box of "fourth half marathon of the year", but it doesn't quite feel like it counts. So many things were off.

I know circumstances were out of my hands. Had I had a normal taper, without international travel and whatever weird stomach issue I developed after, I could have killed that race. I know I need to let it go. But I am so frustrated, still.

Twelve days after I returned from Bali, I had my first normal day of eating. Magically, my appetite had returned to normal...two days too late.

I am trying to be proud of this race in the context of the year. I haven't run four half marathons in a single year since 2015, and doing so meant training consistently all year long. I am trying to remember that the experience is more important than the outcome. That I know I can actually execute a better race than this, when circumstances aren't working against me. But it's hard to move on when I know I was physically capable of so much more than I delivered.

I just keep reminding myself that one race doesn't mean anything in the grand scheme of things. There's always a chance for redemption at the next one.

Ali