Running, Inspired by Running!

So I did it, I ran my first half marathon! It might not have been pretty, but I successfully completed it.

Success meaning I crossed the finish line. I had no expectations for myself except that I wanted to finish. I didn’t care if it was on my hands on knees, I just wanted to do it….and I did….a solid 3 hours and 6 minutes later.

Thinking about running for 3 hours seems awful, and at times it was. I had heard that the course was pretty hilly so I was running hills as part of my “training” or half-assed training as I like to call it. I ran 6 hilly miles the weekend before to prepare. That was the most I had ever run at one time and it was only the 3^rd time in my life I had ran 6 miles. Was I in over my head? Possibly. Could I have trained more to prepare? Absolutely. But when I say I’m going to do something I do it, no matter how hard it may be or how ugly it may end up.

I knew a handful of people running the half marathon, and luckily I ran into them all! We met up with Tom and Mike in the parking lot before hand, I saw my old roommate from college Devon and her sister right by the start, and thankfully I also ran into my HS friend Kelly and her friend Davia right around the same time. I was able to cross the start with all of my lady friends!

I started running with Davia, who had the same goal as I did; finish. She had actually only run 6 miles prior to this race as well. We were meant for each other.  Running through the streets of Baltimore was cool and weird at the same time. I felt so little running past those big buildings. It almost felt like the buildings were going to devour me. It was a strange feeling. Luckily we were blessed with such a beautiful day. The weather couldn’t have been more perfect!

If it wasn’t for Davia, I really don’t think I would have made it to the end in the amount of time I did. She got me through the first 7 miles, which were the toughest and hilliest. She was there when I needed the mental motivation. I did not bring headphones to run with, so having someone there with me was extremely important. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t run into her before the race started.

She left me at mile 7 because she wanted to run faster, or something ridiculous. A 12-14 minute mile wasn’t fast enough for you Davia?! Ha. Just kidding. I’m glad she was able to go on at a faster pace. I was perfectly content with the pace I was running, or as Jeremy likes to call it, walking. I knew if I pushed any harder or faster I wouldn’t make it. At this point my body was not trained to go any faster.

Around mile 9 I lost it. Up until that point I had felt pretty good about the race. Endurance wise I felt fine, but it was around this time that I started really feeling the pain in my knees and hips. I had walked at all of the water stops to hydrate myself, but at mile 9 I felt the need to stop. Once I started walking the pain in my hips and knees became worse. It was at this point that I thought about walking the rest of the way. Then I thought about how much longer it would have taken me to walk those remaining 4 miles…I did not want to be on the streets of BMORE for that long.

So I got myself together and I picked up the pace. It actually felt better to jog than it did to walk. So there I was, in order to not be in so much pain I had to jog. Davia helped me mentally get through the first 7 miles. Here I was, relying on only myself to get through these next 4 miles physically.

It got louder and louder the closer I got to the finish. Even if there hadn’t been mile makers I would have been able to sense the finish coming. There were more people, more cheering, more signs, and more noise. It was wonderful. With one mile to go I was overcome with serious emotion and I wasn’t sure where it was coming from. I wasn’t sure if I was just so happy with myself that I had gotten so far, or if I was in so much pain that I was just happy to be done. I may never remember exactly what I was feeling in those moments. All I know is that as I was finishing the last mile by the warehouse and Camden Yards I was looking forward to holding MY Camden in my arms. As I passed by the stadium I heard my name being chanted. There they were, my two favorite boys and my two biggest fans waiting close to the finish line cheering me on with my sisters. While I saw them and quickly acknowledged that they were there, I couldn’t make eye contact or I would have cried. At that point I was physically, emotionally, and mentally tired.

I didn’t care what my time was as I crossed the finish. That was the furthest thing from my mind. I was proud of myself for crossing that finish line and not having to do so on my hands and knees.

The way I felt physically after the race was worse than I felt after giving birth to Camden. My hips and knees hurt so bad after the half that I was convinced that my hips were made for having babies and not running. I guess I had “trained” for 9 months to have a baby and I only half-ass trained for this half marathon for a couple of months. My body was worn out. In those moments I said I would never run a half again. Two days later I am still in pain, but it is bearable, and thoughts of running another half are crossing my mind, only this time I’m thinking that I would train a little bit better before running that kind of distance again.

It is safe to say that I would never run a full marathon. My knees, hips, and head hurt from just thinking about running longer than 3 hours. Plus, even though they’re not the prettiest things in the world, I like having toes with toenails too much to run a full.

All in all I’m happy to say I did it. I’m proud of myself for sticking with it even when I felt like giving up.

Slow and steady wins the race, and in my book, I won.