I was never a fan of running. In fact, I dreaded it, despite the fact I play a sport that requires a good amount of running. There was nothing I liked about it: being out of breath, sore legs and not to mention the amount of time it took. The first friend I made at college ran cross country and got me to run with her a few times early in our first semester.
Before I knew it, I actually started to enjoy our runs, and we made them a daily ordeal. Toward the end of the semester, she brought up the idea of running a half marathon in the spring. I thought, “Oh, that shouldn’t be a problem! I will have a long time to train." But over Christmas break, I sustained a stress fracture in my foot, which put me out of commission for two months. When we came back to college, our runs were way more difficult than they had been. I had to get back into shape, and after several weeks, I did. Then I became sick. It was so discouraging to be out of commission again with the half marathon coming up in no time.
After recovering from being sick, I hit the gym hard. I focused on running for time instead of distance, and I ran every single day for two weeks. The week before the race, my nerves were outrageous. I didn’t want to push my body too hard, so I didn’t do any running the week before the race, but I did do a lot of stretching and hydrating. Before I knew it, it was the night before the race, and I realized I was about to test my body’s limits. My friend and I woke up extremely early to get to the race with plenty of time to stretch and prepare. I remember being in the huge crowd of people at the starting line and thinking, “What have I gotten myself into?"
I knew I hadn’t trained as much as I should have, so I figured the 13.1 miles were going to be a struggle. I put myself with the two and a half-hour pace group, thinking that would be a good pace for me. But as I started running, I knew I could go faster. Because my longest run in the weeks prior to the race was only two miles long, I imagined that my body would give up around the two-mile mark. I blew by the two-mile marker, and then the third and before I knew it, I was seven and a half miles into the race. Miles 10, 11 and 12 were the worst parts of the entire race. My feet were sore, but I was so close to finishing. I finished with a time of two hours and 14 minutes.
I cannot describe the atmosphere at this race. The streets were lined with supporters, cheering you on as you jogged past them. The supporters and runners around me were my motivation. When I came up to the finish line, everyone was cheering and congratulating me. I was so nervous the week before the race, but now that I’ve completed it, I can’t wait to do another half marathon.
