My slicked back braid swings back and forth like a pendulum as my feet continue to pound into the asphalt over and over...one foot in front of the other the distance grows, and so does my smile.

During that first mile, (usually the hardest) I always find myself asking, "why am I doing this?" By the end of my run, I always come up with the same answer, it's simply a sign of strength.

Strength I did not have until those miles piled up.

I was never fond of running. Actually fond is a generous word I'm using here. I did not whatsoever under any circumstance want to run..anywhere. My life changed when I found myself standing in front of my mirror. Sure, girls will stand staring at their reflections critiquing every flaw, every fault, but what I saw needed changing.

I'm one for plans and detailed lists, so that is what I constructed. I had a goal in mind and the only thing I had to do to follow through was begin.

And begin I did.

That first run in the park was NOT a walk in the park. Actually, yes it was because I walked the majority of my 'run.'

The distance, 0.76 of a mile.

Discouraged and frankly out of breath, I returned home.

My scuffed sneakers were laced up the next day as I returned back to the park. Little to my surprise, I went a mile.

Each day going a little further and each time a little bit faster than the last.

My first mile time; 14 or so minutes. Yup. 14. (little did I know I would diminish this number to 8:28)

As each mile passed and my distance grew greater and further, the better I felt. My plan worked.

1 mile would turn into 2, 2 into 5ks, each run becoming longer and more rigorous. By the help of a close friend of mine (you know who you are) she inspired me to run my first 5k. Trying and thinking of every excuse in the books, I finally gave in.

I'm not here to tell you it was easy, because it surely was NOT. But it was eye opening. Sure, my time needed improving, but it was the fact that I completed the run that kept me thirsty for more. (get it?)

My boyfriend awaited me at the finish line (he made me a sign) and I supplied him with a sweaty kiss after crossing the threshold of my very first finish line. After 3 bottles of water and a gatorade later, he told me that maybe I should work up to a half marathon.

I responded with a,"you know that is THIRTEEN. POINT. 1. MILES, right?!"

He said, "um yeah because a full marathon is 26.2."

Happy that he knew his math, I looked at him and responded promptly with a, "hmm."

I signed up for another race. Wheels turning as to where my insanity for the sport would end up, I kept pushing. This time on my own accord, I signed up for the race. I encouraged my family to give it a go too. With a few sighs from my mom and my dad reminding me of his age, we signed up.

This one was different.

With my boyfriend by my side, we completed the 5k run.

No stopping. No walking, and most importantly no giving up. (also was a minute faster, I can brag here, it's okay)

As my fingers tap and swiftly punch the keys to fill out more 5k registration forms, the half marathon was still ever present in the back of my mind.

This last Sunday, I went out for a run. I only expected to do 2 maybe 3 miles at the most. That 2 turned to 3, that 3 turned into 4, and eventually I had hit the 5 mile mark. By the end, I experienced a feeling unlike any other. Indescribable, really. But if I were to describe it, it would be

Strength.

I, sweaty and smelling of hard work, made the concrete decision that a half marathon is what I need to do. Sure, it won't be easy, but neither was this journey. A journey I hope never ends.

A run that I hope to continue. I hope to overcome more obstacles and inspire others to run. There really is nothing like a 'runner's high.'

I'm only doing a half marathon, so I'm only half crazy.

Al Howie said it best, "I simply don't know how to quit."