I did it.
I ran my Half-Marathon.
For weeks I feared that I wouldn’t be able to finish the race. I worried that my disrupted training schedule would make it utterly impossible for me to survive the distance, especially since I read that it was a challenging course. Right up until the day before the race (I’ll write about this day in another post), I contemplated changing my registration to do the 10K race instead.
There was a part of me, however, that knew I had to run the half marathon. No. Matter. What.
I have been working hard since the beginning of 2015 to make positive changes in my life. Most of those changes have been working well, but there have been a few set-backs. With those setbacks, I’ve been beginning to feel like I’m not as strong, determined, or capable as I thought i was. I feared that if I gave up on my goal to run this half marathon, I would only be letting myself down and reinforcing the negative thoughts and attitudes that I’ve had recently. So, I had to run this race… even if it meant that I walked most of it… even if it meant that my goal of completing it in under 2 hours was no longer a goal… even if it meant it was just an excuse to spend a few hours with myself in the beauty and splendour of the mountains…
On Saturday morning I showed up at the race site prepared to run (or walk) the half marathon as planned. My new goal for the race was to complete it… no matter what. My other new goal was to enjoy being out in the mountains, alone, and with my own thoughts. I decided to run the half marathon without any running apps to tell me my distance, pace, or interval to ensure that I didn’t get distracted from my goals, push myself too hard to keep up to my usual pace, or to feel disappointed in myself for being too slow. So, I shut off the little voice in my ear and set off running with some good music and beautiful scenery.
As I crossed the start line, I felt a wave of emotion come over me and I almost started to cry. Right then it was confirmed that running this race meant more to me than just running 21Km straight; it had everything to do with proving to myself that I could do something that I set my mind to and that I am not someone who gives up. Throughout the race, I walked when I needed to, I looked up at the mountains and trees around me. I watched the water in the river flow past me. I felt the trails and pavement under my feet. I even stopped at a port-a-potty around the 15Km mark… because after all, this race was about being comfortable!
The last 6Km was the greatest challenge because it was almost all up-hill. The start line was on the side of a mountain, which I ran down in the first part of the race to get to the river path. I was sure I had nothing left in me when I saw the last sign on the route: “1 Km Left to Go!” Ahead of me, it was still an incline. I pushed through and when I saw the pink arch that marked the finish line, I picked up the pace just a little more. I saw my boys shaking their white cowbells and my husband poised with the camera. I saw the chip readers above my head, and then I watched my foot strike the ground on the other side of the finish line. After the flurry of people putting a medal over my head, congratulating me, handing me my swag bag, and giving me a refreshingly wet towel, I finally looked at the clock. Somehow, I had completed the race in less than 2 hours and 15 min. Later, when I looked up my official time, I was in awe: 2 hours, 10 minutes, 21 seconds.
Without proper training, on a mountainside course with a 300m elevation change (150m down and then 150m back up), and with a goal to “just finish” the race, I clocked in at only 10 minutes and 21 seconds past my original goal time. Unbelievable! I still cannot believe that I accomplished this amazing goal.
I am so proud of myself.
I needed to do this, and I am so glad that I didn’t give up on myself.