Monday, March 26, 2012
I ran a half marathon yesterday. It was sort of a last minute decision, but one that I felt completely prepared to tackle.
This isn't my first rodeo--it was my fourth half marathon. I would say, however, that I was more prepared yesterday than I have ever been in my life. While it's safe to say I did not train for this race per say, I never doubted for a second that it was within reach.
I beat my personal best by 20 minutes and finished in 1:57.
When you run a half marathon through the woods with approximately 1,000 of your closest friends there isn't much occupy your time. Obviously there's the running. But otherwise, there's plenty of time to think, to make fun of your husband and to stare at other people's outfits. Let's be honest: I was staring at their bodies, too.
But, I thought a lot about what it means to have the ability to run--and to run such a long distance. It's not for everyone, clearly, but just how many people are willing to push themselves (and their bodies) that far?
Being an avid runner, I think I have forgotten about the meaning behind running 13.1 miles (or 26.2, for that matter) and the accomplishment that resides behind those numbers. It's so easy to stop getting excited about running when it's such a regular, normal part of your life.
I remember how incredibly nervous I was to run my first half marathon. I'm pretty sure I was scared you-know-what-less to run the second one, too. It was thrilling, but it was also enough to twist my stomach into very large knots.
I wasn't nervous yesterday. Not once. I enjoyed every second of that race and I still had a big smile on my face when I was handed that medal at the finish line. It means something, you know? I think it's important not to lose sight of what it means to have the will, the drive and the ability to do something that you love. To put another check mark next to an accomplishment. Not everyone is crazy enough to run 13.1 miles in order to chase that feeling.
It's safe to say I am, though.