Half Marathon

On Sunday, I did something I thought I would never do – I ran (and finished!!) a half marathon, 13.1 miles, 21 km.  And it was amazing.

There were 900 runners, about 15 of them were fellow Volunteers.  There were so many people of different types: Kenyans, high school students from Florida, a mother pushing her child in a stroller, wheelchair experts, old ladies with stiff legs, fat old men.  It was inspiring.  We ran through the city, and though I usually need my ipod music to power me, I actually ran the first half without it.  I simply admired the people running beside me, the honking traffic, the various buildings.  My friend’s sister ran with me, checking on my pace and telling stories.  The weather was perfect – cloudy and breezy.  Just before the race it was pouring rain (not preferable), but magically it stopped before the race.  I think God was with me that day.

I considered this half marathon a metaphor for this journey I’m on.  That’s why I did it.  It felt good at first.  I had so much energy, so much adrenaline.  I was optimistic and having fun.  Then after the first half, we ran through a boring park, and I could feel my energy leaking out.  However, when I tried to walk, my leg muscles hurt so much I had to keep running or power walk.  The race became hard.  I had a hard time breathing, I was thirsty, and I had to talk to my body to keep it moving no matter what.  It felt like breaking up with someone you love.  Or being in the Peace Corps and trying to motivate people.  It took a lot of work and talking to myself to finish.  I knew I was suddenly alone in this race, and only I could finish it.  I had to depend on myself.  So I did what I could to survive.  I alternated power walking and running, blasted motivational music in my ear (thanks to my little sister for “Daylight”… it saved me), sipped on a water bag which hung from my mouth, relaxed my arms, looked at the ocean view.

I finished in 2 hours, 45 minutes.  Definitely not the time I wanted, not what I would have gotten in my racing hey-day ten years ago.  But I finished and that was my goal.  And when I crossed the finish line, there was barely anyone there looking on.  But I sprinted as I always do and gave it my all until the very end.  Afterward, people handed me water and crackers, placed a medal around my neck (for participating), cut the digital chip that was attached to my running shoe.  I joined my fellow racing Volunteers and they congratulated me, hugged me.  It felt so good to finish.  I was happy.

So another thing to check off my list of “Things I Thought I Would Never Do.”  What does it mean to be happy?  Surprise yourself.  Seriously, it works wonders for your self-esteem.

P.S. I’m sure there are some (un-flattering) racing pics of me floating around out there.  When I get my hands on some, I’ll share them with you all.  Peace, love, run.