Cowboys and Spandex

Am I the only girl to barf in a Vegas casino?

Probably not.

But the only one to do so because of too much Gatorade?

Quite possibly.

Last weekend The Husband and I ran what must be our craziest race yet - a half marathon in Las Vegas. Probably not the first place you think of when picturing a destination race, but it was So. Much. Fun.

Seeing as how our plane departed from the Midwest, we didn't really notice the odd cowboy hat. And during our layover in Phoenix, the many cowboy boots sorta made sense. But when we got to Vegas and started seeing Stetson after Stetson, we got a bit bewildered.

Turns out the National Rodeo Finals were in town at the same time as the half marathon. Which basically meant it was the Calgary Stampede meets The Running Room.

Totally hilarious. Everyone was parading around in their gear, whether that meant full-on spurs and lassos (yep, I saw a lasso) or arm-warmers and Nikes. (Fortunately, never on the same person.)

There was even a mechanical bull (sorry, most of these are phone pictures, so quality is not great):

It being Vegas, it was tended by a girl wearing chaps over the latest from Victoria's Secret. Of course.

But our purpose wasn't eight seconds; it was 13.1 miles, so we threw in our lot with 38,000 others in the Spandex Crew.

Saturday was the expo and packet pick-up. Sunday morning was carb-loading:

Pancakes for The Husband and an omelette for me. I will say that if you're trying to rest up before a race and drink lots of (non-alcoholic) fluids, Vegas is not the easiest location. So we spent Sunday in our room, watching football and reading. I'll let you guess who did which activity.

Our hotel was the start/finish line, so we got to watch the preparations unfold all afternoon. The race was at night and they shut down The Strip for it, so it was two hours of gawking at traffic backing up and people flooding down to the start line.

Then we suited up and got ready to head down. It was about 10 degrees (Celsius), so while the Canucks were wearing shorts and t-shirts, the weather guy on the TV was warning about the dangerous cold and the other runners were suiting up in long pants and toques.

I have to say that the organizers get fairly low marks in the logistics department. By the time The Husband and I managed to get down to the finish line (no easy task, since there was a Cowboys vs. Spandex throwdown when the Christmas in Kentucky concert let out just as we were trying to get out and a thousand rodeo-ers met a thousand racers going the other way in a very narrow hallway [note: we lost. They had spurs]), we couldn't get into the right corrals, which meant we had to start way at the back.

It's chip time, so your personal gun only starts when you cross the start line, but when you have that many people and the fast people already got started and you're stuck in the back with the shufflers and the Nordic walkers (seriously? Poles on a half marathon??), your pace is determined by the folks around you.

We both spent the race dodging and weaving, trying to get a clear path. The Husband had it worse than I did, since he started in a corral of people used to doing 11 minute miles and he was hoping for sub-sevens. After about four miles, I realized I wasn't going to get anywhere fast, so I just settled in and tried to enjoy myself.

And I totally did. It was so unbelievably much fun running down The Strip. The lights, the bands, the crazy people, the perfect temperature for a run, plus all of the energy coursing through my body since I'd been sitting around all day - I ran that whole race with a smile on my face.

(Okay, totally not a great pic, but you can sorta see the Eiffel Tower lit up. Hey, I'm running with a camera phone - it's an action shot.)

The Bellagio fountain was totally cheering me on, too.

This is me crossing the finish line!

And the happy and proud couple back up in the hotel room, displaying hard-won medals.

Now, I've been looking forward to this race for almost a year. And my plan that entire time was to celebrate finishing the race with mashed potatoes at Nine Fine Irishmen and a nice big glass o' beer (seeing as how I would have had to abstain for awhile before the race).

So we got ready and headed out. Crazy crowds (that whole 38,000 people thing), so we decided to walk over instead of take the tram. And about ten minutes in I started to feel a bit woozy. So I sat down. In a hallway. We figured I'd overheated a bit in the race, since I was constantly sprinting and slowing down and sprinting again, trying to make up some time.

I felt better, so we kept going. Another five minutes and I had to sit down again. Which was closer - restaurant or our room? Restaurant at that point, so I decided to man up and get there, figuring mashed potatoes would set me right.

Got as far as this slot machine:

And suddenly felt the entire Gatorade I had chugged post-race deciding that it would rather be out than in.

"Where's the bathroom?!" said The Husband nervously.

"No time - I'll never make it..." I groaned.

"Here - take this," said my knight in shining armour, as he handed me his (favourite) sweatshirt.

Let's just say it's not his favourite anymore. In fact, it didn't come home with us.

I felt a lot better after puking up everything in my system (which I can tell you with authority was one Gatorade, three energy gels, and one protein bar), but not good enough to do much more than head back to the room and sleep it all off.

But fortunately we still had one more day, so the next day we managed to cram in all the celebrating. Including mashed potatoes at Nine Fine:

Seriously. The finest mashed potatoes I've ever had. And they were extra good for being so hard-won.

Happy Husband. In a t-shirt. Since he only brought one sweatshirt.

We got to see Cirque de Soleil (Beatles - so great!) and learned how to play craps (well, he learned and I just stood there with my eyes glazing over) and I got to play my beloved penny slots and we lost just enough to ensure we don't decide to make the casino our 401k but not enough to make us sad. We ate guacamole at our favouritest Mexican place and The Husband saw the guy from Pawn Stars right in the casino and we marveled at the belt buckles. We laughed and ran and barfed and laughed some more.

In short, an amazing vacation. I would highly recommend it. Although, if you go, I'd maybe avoid the slot machine by the escalators in The Excalibur. I tried to wipe it off, but you never know.