What I've Learned...

My goals for the first half last October were simple: finish. And don't die. No pressure. No expectations. Just run as far as I can for as long as I can. I figured the absolute worse thing that could happen is that I walk. I had a finishing goal in my head but not having ever ran a half before it didn't really mean much.

This time was different. I was aware of the distance. The pain I would feel towards the end. The fact that it would feel like I was running with cinder blocks attached to my feet for the last couple miles. I didn't go into this race as confidently as I had hoped. The practice run kicked my ass. I struggled through the twelve mile practice route. Like, REALLY struggled. Somewhere between the finish of our last half and training for this one, I got it in my head that I would run a half under two hours. Likely not this one, but one nonetheless. Someday. After the practice run, I kicked myself for thinking a sub-two hour half was possible. We ran the twelve miles in 1:56. Unless my deep deeeeeeeeep routed Kenyan genes kicked in at some point, there was no way I was going to knock out a three minute mile to come in at 1:59.

I wasn't nervous as the race started. I was excited. I felt great. I felt naked without my Nike+ and had no way of knowing how fast I was going or pacing myself. I figured this might just be a hidden blessing as my body would lead the pace and determine how fast I go or when I pull back. I hadn't planned on running any of this race by myself. In fact, after our practice run I figured I would be doing all I could to keep up with Rachel. Between a crowded foot bridge, narrow path, and overgrown weeds I lost Rachel around mile three. I was in no way prepared to run ten miles solo. I would learn that running is more mental than physical and that your mind can really carry you through when your body feels as though it can no longer.

I felt strong through miles eight, nine, ten...and then hit a wall at mile eleven. My legs felt like they each weighed a hundred pounds. Each step reminded of the painful blisters that had formed on both feet. My hips were angry at me. I told myself that if this were easy, everyone would be doing it. I coaxed myself to suck it up. I tried everything imaginable to keep my mind off the fact that EVERYTHING hurt. Consider yourself lucky that you weren't anywhere near me to hear me completely butcher Vanilla Ice Ice Baby. Dun dun dun da dun dun. I thought of my boys. I thought of how one day I will have to give them a pep talk on never giving up. Working through the pain. And I thought of how I wouldn't want to be a hypocrite. I had to do this for them. I had do this for me. I worked too hard to NOT leave it all on the table. So I kept going. I didn't slow down even though I wanted to DESPERATELY. In my mind I was a leaping, galloping gazelle. In reality, I was a plodding, heavy footed *insert animal*.

As soon as I could see the finish I started to tear up. I had done this. Again. And I knew I had done it faster than last time. I couldn't see the time clock as there was an amazing crowd lining the finish. As I stepped over the mats I could see my time in the corner of my eye. 2:01:30.

I learned that ANYTHING is possible when you put your MIND to it. While I cursed myself for not running 1:31 faster, I realized that a sub-two hour half is in fact VERY possible. And I will do it. I will keep running until I do.

As I waited for Rachel and Erica to finish I stood at the finish line and marveled at the diversity of runners. All different ages, sizes, abilities. Moms and daughters finishing with their arms around each other. Women hurting from their heads to their toes but smiling as they crossed the finish. I found it to be the most inspiring show of strength, courage, perseverance, and athleticism. I am quite certain that everyone overcame something that day. But no matter the obstacle or challenge, we all crossed that finish line. Watching Erica and Rachel cross the finish line filled me with the utmost pride and admiration. This journey has forged a friendship that can't be expressed in poetry or prose. They have seen me at my absolute worse and helped pushed me through when I needed it the most. They have taught me strength. I marvel at their busy lives and ability to train.

The training most certainly isn't always fun. Or easy. There were countless times I thought we were crazy. But because of them. Because of the training. The pain. The sacrifices. I have experienced the absolutely priceless feeling of crossing that finish line. Twice. And learned that I can do more than I ever thought.