Anyway, I have a goal of running 13 half marathons this year. After my third half on the 11th, I had set a new personal record, 01:53. That high I felt was unbelievable. And training, the following week, was equally as miserable. I couldn't believe the pain, aching, nausea, exhaustion I was feeling with just 3, 7, and 4 miles. Friday, I was suppose to run 10. 10 miles should be nothing compared to 13's, right? I ran a total of one mile before I gave up. I'm so embarrassed to admit this! I was a quitter that day. All hopes of training and running a full marathon this year went out the window. I thought maybe I'd try again tomorrow.
That night, as I downed some caffiene to prepare for a long night of studying, Lauren texted me that Nate had thrown out his back, and couldn't run the Odgen half the next day. "do you want his spot?" Instantly I said yes. Yes to waking up at 2:45 am, yes to running 13 miles when I couldn't run 1 earlier today.
The next day, we waited for an hour in the light rain for the race to start. We hoped it would let up. When the gun went off, I could feel the rain beating down heavier. Immediately, I knew I wouldn't get a new pr from this race. A hundred hours later, I finally saw a little mile marker, "Mile 1." I was devastated. Usually I coast to mile 5 before I realize I'm a little bit tired. I was freeeeeezing! My jacket was completely soaked, I couldn't see through the rain, my legs were pounding, I could smell everyone's odors around me, why are there all these hills? ...I started sobbing. I didn't want to run this race. I was going to drop out at the next aid station.
The next aid station came and went. I put one foot in front of the other, through puddles, mud, piercing rain; carried myself mile after mile, aid station after aid station. I didn't chant my mantra, "you're not even tired" because I was exhausted. I hid behind other runners when I saw photographers ahead. I saw myself through mile 7 and mile 8 and knew I was going to finish this. I read all the encouraging signs along the way. One said "...baby, you're almost there. only a few more miles." and I lost it again. These signs obviously weren't for me, but knowing Jeremy thinks of me the whole time I run always lightens the load. And of course, those blessed people who yell, "only one more mile! one more mile!!! run!!!!! runnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!!!!"
Finally, I crossed the finish line. Gun time, 2:18:24. Tag time, 2:16:38. I've never been that happy to finish a race. I got the slowest half time of my season, but I proved to myself that I am not a quitter. You know that quote? "My child, you worry too much, I've got this remember? Love, God." it stuck to me that whole race. I was given an able body to do some incredible things. I'm grateful that I've trained and exercised it to finish something hard.
4 down, 9 to go.
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