In a crush of over 5,000 entrants, we anxiously anticipated the start gun. Bib numbers in place, hydration goo in pockets, iPod’s sending world-conquering music through earbuds.
I’ve never been much of a runner; I always preferred to be atop a cantering horse rather than expending that energy myself. In high school lacrosse, I did do quite a bit of wearing out my cleats, but that was mostly quick sprints of running a ball down to a teammate. Endurance really wasn’t needed that much.
About six months ago, a few of the girls at the ranch were throwing around the idea of running a marathon. At first I just kinda chuckled at them and told them I would be cheering them on at the finish line. But as the idea turned more concrete, I got to thinking, “Why not? I did run a 5K last year and finished that strong… 26.2 miles? Sure, no problem!” Well, maybe that wasn’t exactly what was running through my head, but the excitement of the endurance from the other girls challenged me to join in. And it can be hard for me to back down from a challenge at times.
The training was slated for three days a week – two short runs during the week and an increasingly longer run on Saturdays. But between my busy schedule and ailing knees (dang IT band tendon!), I missed a lot of the training. I knew there was no way that I would be able to run the full course, but I signed up for a half-marathon. Still 13.1 miles – not exactly a jog in the park.
Three weeks before the race in Eugene, Oregon, my right foot decided to gang up on me as well. Not wanting to train on an injured foot, I tried to heal up for a full week before resuming my long runs. But it wasn’t healing very quickly. It ended up that I didn’t run at all for three weeks before the half-marathon. And the furthest distance that I had trained for was 7 miles.
There were 6 other runners from the ranch – 4 running the full marathon and three of us signed up for the half. As I lined up at the starting area with the rest of our team, I figured I would run as long possible (probably about 9 miles or so) and then cross the finish line at a walk.
My friend & roommate, Laurie, and I settled into a good pace together. One by one, the miles passed by. Around mile 6, I turned to Laurie and asked how she was feeling. She also had some injuries and her physical therapist had told her to be really careful with how far she pushed her body. She said she was feeling good, so we continued to move along with the mass of people straining towards the finish.
I’ve never been much of a runner; I always preferred to be atop a cantering horse rather than expending that energy myself. In high school lacrosse, I did do quite a bit of wearing out my cleats, but that was mostly quick sprints of running a ball down to a teammate. Endurance really wasn’t needed that much.
About six months ago, a few of the girls at the ranch were throwing around the idea of running a marathon. At first I just kinda chuckled at them and told them I would be cheering them on at the finish line. But as the idea turned more concrete, I got to thinking, “Why not? I did run a 5K last year and finished that strong… 26.2 miles? Sure, no problem!” Well, maybe that wasn’t exactly what was running through my head, but the excitement of the endurance from the other girls challenged me to join in. And it can be hard for me to back down from a challenge at times.
The training was slated for three days a week – two short runs during the week and an increasingly longer run on Saturdays. But between my busy schedule and ailing knees (dang IT band tendon!), I missed a lot of the training. I knew there was no way that I would be able to run the full course, but I signed up for a half-marathon. Still 13.1 miles – not exactly a jog in the park.
Three weeks before the race in Eugene, Oregon, my right foot decided to gang up on me as well. Not wanting to train on an injured foot, I tried to heal up for a full week before resuming my long runs. But it wasn’t healing very quickly. It ended up that I didn’t run at all for three weeks before the half-marathon. And the furthest distance that I had trained for was 7 miles.
There were 6 other runners from the ranch – 4 running the full marathon and three of us signed up for the half. As I lined up at the starting area with the rest of our team, I figured I would run as long possible (probably about 9 miles or so) and then cross the finish line at a walk.
My friend & roommate, Laurie, and I settled into a good pace together. One by one, the miles passed by. Around mile 6, I turned to Laurie and asked how she was feeling. She also had some injuries and her physical therapist had told her to be really careful with how far she pushed her body. She said she was feeling good, so we continued to move along with the mass of people straining towards the finish.
My body and spirit felt energized until about mile 8 or so, and then it all started to go away. Near the start of the race I had laughed at the slogan on a runner’s shirt, “If you start to feel good while running, don’t worry, it will pass.” This was now becoming a reality as both of my knees were starting to scream at me. Just past mile 9, I felt something in my left foot kinda twinge. I knew that if I stopped now, I wouldn’t start up a run again. I also knew that if I continued to run, I was going to be hurting real bad. But having come this far, I wasn’t about to give up yet.
One foot in front of the other. A teammate by my side. Encouraging cheers from strangers on the sidelines. All these things combined to press me forward. As Laurie and I passed the mile 12 sign, we picked up the pace just a bit and finished our race in less than 2 ½ hours.
Tears started streaming down my face as we rounded that last corner and the finish line came into sight. I’m not sure if they were tears of exhaustion, pain, or relief, but it is such a breathtaking thing when you achieve something that had seemed impossible. I am fine with never running that far again, but am also so thankful to have accomplished this goal.
One foot in front of the other. A teammate by my side. Encouraging cheers from strangers on the sidelines. All these things combined to press me forward. As Laurie and I passed the mile 12 sign, we picked up the pace just a bit and finished our race in less than 2 ½ hours.
Tears started streaming down my face as we rounded that last corner and the finish line came into sight. I’m not sure if they were tears of exhaustion, pain, or relief, but it is such a breathtaking thing when you achieve something that had seemed impossible. I am fine with never running that far again, but am also so thankful to have accomplished this goal.
All of us finished our races that day. Each girl with a teammate by their side. How immensely proud I am of each of them. (Even if we did look like a special needs groups afterwards - with all the limping and hobbling!)
