The alarm went off bright and early (more like dark and early) yesterday morning. When I registered for the half marathon five months ago, it seemed like a hundred years away, but now it was officially here. It was half marathon time!
I got dressed, pinned on my race number, put my hair into a bun, and double-checked everything one last time: headphones, fully-charged phone for music and pictures, a tissue, lip balm (I hate, hate, hate dry lips!)…looked like I had everything. I ventured out in the dark, windy morning, nervous and excited.
The starting line was packed with stretching, bouncing, and chatting runners. I lined up with the elite runners, right at the front…ha, totally kidding! I made my way to the second half of the pack, the not-very-fast-but-not-walking crowd.
I wasn’t cold very long. Around mile two, I had to take off my jacket and tie it around my waist. The race volunteers and police officers shouted encouragement and clapped as we went by, which was cool. Runners of all sorts surrounded me, some in packs, some loners, all of us in it together.
I was very glad that I consistently train on hills, because the course definitely had them. Especially near the end of the half marathon, hills were full of runners who fell back to walking instead. Proudly, I was not one of them. I chalk it up to hill training and weight training, since a lot of runners don’t lift weights.
Around mile 11, I was impatient to just be done already. It drizzled on us, I was hungry, my stomach cramped up a bit (just enough to be uncomfortable), and I was just ready to change into warm, dry clothes and eat and be done putting one foot in front of the other. At mile 12, I gave in to the impatience and sped up: I wanted to see that finish line, already!
I crossed the finish line with a big smile on my face, and I couldn’t stop smiling long after I got my medal. I waited at the finish for a few runners I had talked with along the course, so I could applaud and congratulate them for finishing too.
The day I signed up for the half marathon, I still weighed around 190 pounds and could never have finished that run if my life depended on it. I have come a long, long way since then! I remember that first one or two mile run on the treadmill, my first half marathon training run, and feeling like I was surely going to die.
The half marathon actually didn’t feel all that difficult, and I am surprised that I am not nearly as sore today as I thought I would be. I stretched several times yesterday, iced my foot, massaged it, and made sure I didn’t sit still for very long without getting up to warm up my muscles and stretch a little more.
My husband and I went out for a victory dinner last night. I wore the half marathon t-shirt (I wore a different shirt to run in, because I didn’t want to wear the half marathon shirt until I had actually finished it). I wore the medal all day, even put it back on right after my shower, and lounged around last night with it on over my pajamas. I contemplated wearing it to work today, but it’s kind of heavy, and I didn’t want it smacking into my laptop screen!
I very nearly didn’t register for the half marathon, because I had almost convinced myself I couldn’t do it. Almost. Something flared up and sparked among all the doubt and defiantly said, “Try it.” I’m glad I did.
So…next up…training for a full marathon! I don’t know if this plantar fasciitis will allow it, but there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?
Sweat & Sparkle 