My Half-Marathon

So yesterday morning I did something I NEVER thought I'd be able to do. I successfully completed a half-marathon.  I've been working towards this for about six months, but it has been a drastic change in lifestyles- considering until my sister asked me to WALK a 5k with her, I'd never liked running, never wanted to run, and never dreamed I'd choose to do a half-marathon without a million dollars on the line...  (See my previous post about the 5k- posted around May 2014.)

A lot of things led up Saturday's race.  First, Katie came down with a bad head-cold that she shared with Mommy.  That was Thursday.  Friday, Scott got so seriously sick that he had to go to the doctor, and we nearly went to the ER.  (He's fine now, in case anyone was worrying.)  Katie being sick meant that I was sick and that meant that not only was I attempting the longest run of my running career (if you can call the last eight months a career....), but I was going to be attempting it feeling really yucky to START with.  Scott being sick meant that I had to drive myself to the race and had no cheering section at the finish line.  (Which I was okay with under the circumstances- Scott would have much preferred being with me than being sick- it isn't like he was TRYING to get out of cheering me on. :D)

Saturday morning, I woke up before my alarm and I felt pretty yucky. You know that whole-body sick feeling you get when you get the flu or a cold?  I had that.  And I was tired.  But I got up and got ready for my race anyway.  I packed the bag they gave me with everything I thought I'd need during the race.  I put a few pieces of bread in a ziploc bag because I hadn't been able to eat much  breakfast and was worried about my hypoglycemia acting up during the race.  I put a couple doses of dayquil in there, too.  (One for when the four hours had past after my dose at breakfast time and one more in case my goal of four hours turned sour and I took six or eight hours instead....)  I also put a bottle of gatorade in, a pack of cough drops, and left in the granola bar thing they had put in there as a sample.  It didn't feel too heavy, so I figured I'd be good carrying it throughout the race- even though it was actually a bag meant to put my stuff in and have them take it from the starting line to the finish line so I didn't HAVE to carry it the whole way.

I got to the race and walked from my car to the bus.  (I had to park at the finish line and then they bussed us to the starting line.)  Just the walk from the car to the bus made me tired. I knew I was doomed.  The cold was going to sink me.  My next panic attack about the race (and the 'what on Earth have I gotten myself into' feeling) was when the bus driver took us on a half hour drive to the starting line.  She kept going farther and farther and farther.  I kept thinking, "I did sign up for a HALF-marathon, right?"  Turns out she had just missed a turn, but at first I was really scared I had accidentally signed up for a full marathon.  I KNEW I couldn't do that...

We waited at the starting line for about an hour or so before the race actually started. It was SO cold.  I had decided not to bring my jacket because it wasn't too cold at the high school where the finish line was.  It wasn't colder at the starting line, but once we got up the mountain, the wind was strong, and that made it feel freezing.  So while I warmed up my muscles, by the time the race started, I didn't feel warmed up.  Again, I knew I was doomed.

However, when we lined up at the starting line (or bunched up might be a more appropriate description?), I happened to stand next to a lady who struck up a conversation with me.  Just having a friend to talk to melted a lot of my apprehensions and I started to get excited to start the race.  By the time they actually had us start, I was pumped up and ready to take on the world.

When I passed the mile 1 marker, I was so excited.  By mile 2, I was wondering if my goal of running the race in 4 hours was a little too optimistic for my lackadaisical training pattern.  By mile 3, I had decided they were purposely moving the mile markers back just to be mean.  I knew that I hadn't been running for that long yet, but I still had SO far ahead to go.

But you know what?  Mile 4 was a game-changer for me.  Mile 4 was the first of the aid stations.  They had volunteers there waiting with water and gatorade.  A few of the volunteers were standing ahead of the tables, their sole job being to cheer us on.  As I came by (I was alone- far behind the main pack and a little ahead of the group behind me) they cheered me on, telling me I was doing a good job, etc.  Just having that cheering section got me pumped up again.  I was suddenly so excited to be running that race.  Getting to mile 5 was the easiest part of that race- just based on the cheering of a bunch of total strangers.

I was able to run the majority of miles 1-7. By mile 8 my pace was half walking, half running.  By mile 10, I was mostly walking and thought I was going to die.  By mile 11, I wasn't sure I was going to be able to finish. I honestly didn't know if I was capable of completing the race.  I wanted the finisher's medal SO badly (that was the main motivation for doing the race anyway).  But I didn't know if I could do it.  When I finally reached mile marker 12, I knew I could scrape myself along that last mile, but I was in so much pain...  (Funny thing about training.  1) If you don't listen to your husband and train more, your body doesn't like you.  2) If you train for uphill, it does in fact make the downhill feel easier, but it also means your body isn't used to the grade DOWN and you hurt in places you didn't know you had....)  

I was finally close enough to the finish line that I could hear the announcer and the music.  I rounded the last corner, and I could finally see the school. I had just about a block to go before rounding one last corner and going about 40 more feet to the finish line.  I was so relieved. All I wanted to do was get my medal and crawl to the car so I could go home and die a quiet, non-public death.

But as I rounded that corner, there were three people standing on the sidewalk.  One had a flourescent pink heart (rudely cut), one had a big poster board that said, "We love you!" and the last was jumping up and down in excitement.  Scott and the girls had come to see me across the finish line.  Scott had ridden his motorcycle to the school, gotten the car, and then taken the girls to buy poster board, make Mommy signs, and then come to the school to see me through.  (Scott was much better by Saturday, but he WAS still sick, so it really was a huge sacrifice on his part to do any one piece of that.  All of it together was a HUGE deal for him.)

Seeing my family there to cheer me on gave me the energy boost I needed. I was still incapable of running at this point, but I no longer felt on death's door.  I walked the rest of the way with the girls at my side (Daddy had a little more decorum and stayed on the side walk right next to me).  The girls crossed the finish line with me.  As we did this, we discovered a perk to being one of the last few to crawl across the finish line- they knew they had extra medals and they gave both my girls finisher's medals being so extremely cute as they crossed the finish line. 


I learned a lot from this race.  The first lesson was that I CAN DO IT!!!!!  Yes, I hurt the rest of the day and am still sore today, but I did train enough that it isn't too extreme.  I am so proud of myself. I worked for something hard, did something hard, and succeeded.

The second lesson was that you can prepare for things to be hard.  What I mean is this:  During those first 7 miles, I ran almost all of the time.  I was averaging between 11 and 13 minutes per mile at first.  (Which is faster than I expected to be able to run- I was planning on about a 15 minute mile.)  That meant that even though the last two or three miles I was walking about 24 minutes a mile, I had gained enough momentum that I finished the race in 3 hours 33 minutes- nearly a full half hour ahead of my goal of four hours.  (Thank you volunteers at mile 4!!!!  I think I can credit a lot of that faster time to you!)

Another lesson I learned is that a cheering section can go a LONG way.  Mile 4 really was a game changer for me- and I don't know ANY of the people who were working there.  Don't think you need to hold in your praise or encouragement because you don't know a person- well enough or even at all.  People still need cheering sections, no matter how small or how anonymous.

Oh, and that bag I packed? I needed NONE of it.  During the race, my cold symptoms pushed themselves to the back and my hypoglycemia didn't act up.  It was also cool and windy, so when I finished the race, I was tired and sore, but not hot or sweaty.  So the bag accomplished nothing but a place to focus pain on as it bounced against my back into a gatorade-bottle shaped bruise...  My next lesson was that it's easy to bring baggage with us that we don't need.  There are reasons they have drop off bags that you pick up at the finish line instead carrying it with you the whole race...

The last lesson I learned was that finishing with your family makes the whole race worth-while.  Yes, I would have been happy to have finished, even if they weren't there to meet me.  But my attitude about the race was VERY different finishing with my family. There was a sense of joy there that I don't think would have been there had I crossed the finish line alone.


In fact, I might even be crazy enough to do another one.  :)  Just a thought....