I did it. I ran 13.1 miles and didn't die. And here's how it went:
My running buddy and I got in line for the bathroom to try to squeeze out anything that may be in our bladder since we wouldn't want to stop the next 2 1/2 hours. The line was looooonnnngggg. Only for the ladies room though. Of course.
We pee, come out and those hundreds of people that were mingling in the park just a minute before had vanished! Like the rapture had occurred and we were left behind! Then we walk fast. In no particular direction. Because we have no clue where we're going. So we followed people that looked like THEY knew where to go. Eh. We were in the right vicinity at least. But we had to RUN to get to the starting line so we could RUN our race. So. Annoying.
We start. We're off to a good pace. Going with the crowd.
Mile 1- In the bag. Easy peasy.
Mile 2 & 3- Feeling good. Smooth sailing so far.
Mile 4- Getting a little anxious but alive.
Mile 5- I'm getting slightly bored.
Mile 6- I'm focusing on people's shirts and what they say or the signs the spectators are holding. Burping up strawberry flavor from the energy chews I ate back between mile four and five.
Mile 7, 8, 9- Were stupid. I didn't like them. I wanted to quit. I was ready for someone to come with a car and take me home. I wanted to flip everyone off. Then came mile ten.
Mile 10- I was well over halfway done and on my second pack of strawberry gummies. I found myself focusing on someone, anyone's butt. Jiggly butts. Little butts. Big ones. I ran an entire mile with my mind on butts. At some point I was running and zoned out and forgot I was running. I guess that's the runners high I hear about. But it didn't last long. Maybe because I was being distracted by the butts.
Mile 11- At mile eleven I started seeing people really struggling. And I was happy that I was still going. The end was less than a 5k away. And I knew I could do it.
Mile 12 & 13- My running app told me I was at 13.1 wayyy before the finish line. Someone's wrong. I choose to believe it's not my app. But if I wanted my fancy medal I had to cross their finish line.
Then I saw it. I saw the finish. And I wanted to try to run faster to get there but my body was like nah girl. You ain't going any faster. So I kept my pace and kept on digging. And I made it.
And then every feeling and emotion imaginable hit me. I was excited to finish. My legs were shaking and all of a sudden I didn't know if I would be able to stay standing. Then I hugged my running buddy and cried! Because until the moment I crossed the finish line I didn't know if I could make it 13.1 miles. I hadn't run that far in my training. I totally chanced it at the end of training and never got past 11 miles. Then I felt sick. My stomach hurt and I didn't know if I wanted to run to the bathroom or puke. It was like having a hangover. I drank a Gatorade, nibbled on a banana and sipped on water. It took a good 10 minutes to get myself under control. So many emotions!
I drove there by myself. And drove home by myself. And I cried on the way home. I was proud of myself. I felt accomplished. It's safe to say this may be the most rewarding thing I've ever done next to giving birth to my kids. I didn't know until it was all over how much it all meant to me. I did something I had never done before and put in the hard work to achieve it. I haven't decided if I'll do it again. My brain says yes. My hips and knees say no.
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