- Number of miles run: 13.1
- Time taken to run it: 1 hour, 56 minutes, and 4 seconds, with a mile pace time of 8:56. I'll take it!
- Number of songs listened to during my race: 37
- Cost of my trusty Asics running shoes that got me through the race: $53.41
- Race-day attire: $25.00
- Wicking socks: $3.00/pair, and worth every cent
- Gatorade gel packs to keep me fueled: $2.58
- Blisters, callouses and overall nasty looking feet: hard-earned (but still ugly)
- Feeling of accomplishment of training for and completing my first half marathon: priceless
Pre-race, about 4:45 a.m. before leaving to meet the bus.
Running in the final stretch!
Post race, hungry, thirsty, sore, but happy!
Yep, I really did it. I ran my first half marathon!! In a lot of ways it feels really surreal. Maybe because it was so early in the morning (I had to be on a bus at 5:00 a.m. to take me to the starting point, which meant waking up at 4:15 a.m. Forget that the race didn't even start until after 7:00, but that's another story), but it was almost dreamlike how I got up, met the bus, rode up the canyon, waited, waited some more, shivered a lot up the cold canyon, waited a little more, saw the sun come up, finally started, and then ... it was done. Well, after a couple of hours of physical and mental exertion, but really, it came and went so fast in light of the weeks of preparation and anticipation leading up to it.
To summarize how I feel: I feel, above all, SORE, at least at the moment. My Achilles, my ankles, my back, and especially my quads are just aching. Kind of a proud kind of ache, but still, I hurt! Can't wait until I can walk down a flight of stairs like a normal person again. But I also feel very proud of myself. Proud that I finished, proud of my time (which kind of surprised me), proud that I didn't walk or stop, proud that I put my mind to something and did it. Proud that despite my overall laziness this summer as I vegged/hid out while I stressed for poor Bar-preparing Grant, I accomplished something for me. Just for me. Not to prove to anybody else but myself that I could do it. It's a good feeling. It's an empowering feeling. Even if I hurt ... a lot.
Some of the highlights of the race for me really had very little to do with the race/running itself, though I guess that was the means of the experiences I had. I'll try to explain. One of the very best part of the race for me were the little bits of encouragement I received along the way. Grant and Eliot made me very special recorded messages that Grant inserted strategically in my playlist as a surprise for me. So my very first track was a message from my boys wishing me luck on my race, including a stuffed-up Eliot saying "Go, Mom!" (which sounded a little more like "Go, Bob!"). Very sweet. Other messages came at the 1/2 way point, 3/4-way, and just before I finished, and all seemed to come right as I needed a little boost. I don't think anything else could have lifted me up more than hearing my boys rooting me on. Thanks, Grant. That was so thoughtful. More motivating than the fanciest pair of shoes, new iPod, Garmin watch, or anything else you wish you could have bought me.
As for the other little things that touched me. First, starting off in a pack of a couple thousand people, all of different ages, fitness levels, backgrounds, etc., and realizing that everyone there had a different story, motivation, and training experience coming into that race. Just knowing my story, my motivation, and my experience, and realizing that everyone else had their own individual purpose coming into that race was really impressive to me. I found myself almost tearing up as I ran those first few miles as that all sunk in. Everyone was there to do their best, to push themselves, to achieve a goal, and that was humbling to be a part of. Even though I didn't really talk to anyone in the race or necessarily make a new friend that day, I felt connected to those people, if that's not too cheesy to say. Just kind of cool to be a part of a common goal that's such an individual thing to so many people.
Another thing that touched me was seeing family members and friends cheering on their loved ones along the trail. At different points, loved ones took pictures & videos of their runners, held up signs, slapped high fives, and even cheered on the rest of us they didn't know. Along the way I saw signs of encouragement, people biking alongside and cheering on significant others, and even one family that I saw over and over as they moved from one checkpoint to another to root on their runner. Cool. And it was definitely rewarding to reach the finish line and have Grant, his parents, and my little Eliot ringing cowbells and yelling excitedly for me as I finished. Really cool.
The most significant part of my experience happened in the last few miles of the race. At about mile 9 1/2, I started feeling it. My upper legs started locking up on me. My quads just started to ache and I began to experience a dreaded phenomenon known as "lead legs." Suddenly those mile markers seemed like an eternity apart, and negative thoughts started creeping in, which any runner knows is deadly. Though I never panicked or felt like giving up, I did start to wonder and worry what was going to happen. I knew I could finish, but I knew it would be slow-going and possibly painful. It was hot at that point, exhaustion was kicking in, and I just wanted to be done. I needed a boost, and I started mentally praying for help. Ideas would come to mind about how to change my stride or think positively and stay focused. But as I pushed through, my legs only got tighter, and my body got weaker and more and more tired. By miles 11 and 12 I could see that the other runners around me were experiencing similar difficulties, as runners who had kept a strong lead in front of me started dropping off, some holding side stitches, some stopping to walk, some stopping off to the side altogether. I recognized their discouragement and all I could think to do, even though I'm typically a "shy" runner and not prone to do things like this, was to cheer them on and tell them they could make it. As a pair of girls who had passed me more than once pulled off to the side, one hunched over in pain, I told her how close she was and that she could do it. As I passed them, the girl who was bent over gave me a thankful look and started up again. It's not like I was the "strong one" who was feeling great at that point -- I was really just telling her what I myself needed to hear. Another man about Grant's build started walking probably a 1/2 mile from the finish line, and I told him to keep going, that he was almost there. He passed me just before I went in, and I saw him meet his proud wife and daughter soon after.
The significant part to me about that experience was that with each person I cheered on, I felt a surge of energy enter my own body. I physically felt re-energized as I encouraged others along the route. It was incredible. My eyes are welling up with tears as I type about it. It is something I will not soon forget. It was a powerful experience. The parallel of what I was experiencing and the significance of helping each other along in our mortal journey was profound. From the role of having cheerleaders and even strangers who encourage us, from signs along the way to family to welcome us at the finish line, I felt a glimpse of why it's so important to support and love each other in our journey. We all need it. We're all struggling. We all hurt. We're all in a little over our heads. We all have to rely on other sources and higher powers for help. I realized how vitally important it is to help each other along, and made the powerful realization that when we do, we only help ourselves. As we lift each other, we strengthen ourselves. That was something I personally experienced and now know for a fact.
In a book about running that I've been reading recently, the author makes this wise insight: "Some runners feel that the training and racing process contains a microcosm of life's challenges and that through the one they learn about the other." This is absolutely true for me and how I view my own connection with running. I learned so much from training for and running this half marathon. I learned practical things about running and training. I learned more about my body and what works for me and what doesn't. I learned more about my own mental and physical fortitude. I learned more about life's challenges, about myself, about life, about Heavenly Father's plan. A really neat experience that I find myself struggling to put into words.
There are lots of reasons I run. I run to get fit, I run to lose and keep off weight, I run to de-stress, I run to manage depression, I run to problem solve, I run to have time to myself, I run to enjoy the outdoors, I run to challenge myself, I run to see what I'm made of mentally, physically, and emotionally, and I run to learn. There have been so many lessons I've learned while running. About the physical process of running, about myself and my strengths and weaknesses, about the gospel or life as I've had that time to think and analyze. Sometimes I run and just rock out to favorite music, sometimes I pray or meditate almost the entire time. Sometimes all I can think about is how rumbly my stomach feels or how much that darn shoelace or earbud keeps bugging me. Sometimes I just try to keep Eliot content in his stroller so I can put in a short run with him. But often, I do learn. I often joke that I have a love/hate relationship with running. But I think I really do love it, if for nothing else, for what I learn from it and through it. And I definitely learned a lot through this most recent experience.
As Eliot would say, "Go, Bob!"
