Last month, I ran my first full marathon. I tried to collect my thoughts to share with others, but it’s taken me this long to find a time to squeeze out a blog. There are so many emotions and thoughts to collect, that it took some time and reflection. Even as I write this, I have to think about how to make it all coherent. Here we go –
Part 1: The Run
I will start off with this: It was without any doubt, an amazing experience – and not the least bit what I thought it would be. The more time passes, I confirm my belief that it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.
Growing up, I was one of those kids who wasn’t involved in sports. I played a little tennis but gave that up after middle school. I didn’t want to be part of the jock crowd that was associated with playing sports (no offense to anyone – but that’s how I perceived it). All throughout college, I would hear about my friends’ runs – their ability to just get up and go. I was jealous, but I truly believed I could never do that. I just wasn’t a runner.
Then, two years ago – almost to the day of this marathon – I watched my best friend finish her first full marathon. I was amazed. She had decided to run it one night – and she did!!! I had toyed with training to run a race for over a year, and seeing her cross that finish line for a marathon was inspiring. If she could do 26.2 miles, I figured I could run 6.2. So, I signed up for my first 10K race, and tada – I DID IT.
Well, many miles, runs, and races later, I came to the start line last week to run 26.2 miles. As I started running, I was floored. All the months of training, running, planning, talking, coordination, and here I was. I was doing it.
Part 2: The Challenge
The run was not that great – in itself. My best friend and I had some great training runs, and it quickly became obvious, this run was going to be much harder. I finished the marathon – yes. However, I will not lie that I was disappointed in our time. Most of all? I felt like I let my best friend down because I know we finished far slower than even what she predicted. I had stomach issues for maybe the second time in my life. My left hip, for the first time in a long time, flared up more than any other injury I thought I would “run” into (pun intended?). I struggled to push through the pain.
The hardest part of all? The mental aspect of it. I keep laughing/’;=- at myself because I was literally a basket case. I was just overwhelmed, anxious, and amazed. So many people – running or cheering – all here for this race. The spectators along the route – whether it was my family, friends, or random strangers – took my breath away, literally. I was afraid of not finishing but determined. It was a constant struggle with myself.
It was like that until mile 26 – the struggle, the pain, the amazement that was I doing it. Then, suddenly I realized I had 0.2 miles left. And just around one corner, I was going to see that finish line – the one I had been anticipating for over 3 months, for 26 miles, for 6 long hours. That’s the moment that I don’t think I’ll ever forget. I gunned it. And when I finished? I was in tears, beside myself that I had finally made it. I did what no one in my family had done. I did it with the support of so many – and it was a memory that is embedded in my memory.
