I went for a run yesterday evening, determined to not only burn off those McDonald’s french fries (delicious little golden-fried temptresses), but to reach 10 miles. I don’t know what magically came together to give me a good run, but I felt strong. I love runs like that, the few and far between runs when I feel good, nothing hurts, and I have energy to burn.
As I neared 10 miles, I started thinking about pushing for 11. When I hit that and still felt good, I went for 12. When I hit 12, I was too damn close to that magical 13.1 number, the half-marathon number, to stop! So I kept going.
My quadriceps groaned and complained the last 2 miles, but I just kept thinking that I had come too far not to go for it. Hey, otherwise I had to start all over again at mile 1, so why not just keep going from mile 12? Logical, no?
When Runkeeper announced I had reached 13 miles, I dug my phone out of my arm band so I could count down and watch the distance turn to 13.1. Just for kicks, I let it turn to 13.2, then finally slowed to a walk for my cool-down.
Yesssss! I have been trying since May 2014, when I first took up running again, to reach 13.1 miles. I got sooooo close last summer: I hit 12 miles sometime during the summer. Then I slacked off, stopped running, and gained a ton of weight. I started running again in June of this year, when I made the commitment to lose this weight once and for all.
I still can hardly believe I finally reached the half-marathon distance. The first thing I did this morning was shop online for one of those coveted 13.1 stickers for my car! I still intend to run a formal half marathon, but Runkeeper proves that I am officially a half-marathoner now, so I want my sticker. I will get the bling (the medal) in a few months when I run a local half marathon. I just need to stay consistent so I can be sure to get that medal too!
Sweat & Sparkle 