Lib's Half Marathon

Scoreboard of the day:

Libs: 1

Half Marathon: 0

Libs Car: 1

Libs: 0

Libs overall half marathon time: 2 hours and 20 minutes

--originally I had posted 2 : 22 but after the final results... 2:20!!!

It is a really good thing that I didn't have to use my fingers at all to run a half marathon, because had I, I probably wouldn't be able to write this article right now. Every body part that contributed to the half-marathon run this morning feels like it needs to be amputated--But that's ok because that means I did it. Today, I ran a half-marathon--I ran all 13 miles of it.

I decided at the beginning of the semester that it was time to try something new. The last time I tried something new (ie going abroad) it seemed to work out well. That is when I decided that I wanted to attempt a half marathon. I have to be honest--I never thought it would happen. I assumed that I would get through a few weeks of training and throw in the towel. But somewhere along the way, I embraced  the running. Suddenly, it was an addiction and no longer a chore. Suddenly, I woke up every morning wanting to run, even on my days off. Before getting really into training, I had talked with a bunch of my friends about running. We all had come to an agreement that we each hated running for the same reason: It had always been used as punishment in our sports. Every time we had to run, it reminded us of those times. Therefore, running had always been a punishment or a chore for me rather than a hobby. 

This semester it turned into a hobby. And I grew to love it, even when it was 20 degrees. I remember the first four miler that I had to do. I was home for the weekend and threw on a couple of layers. I went out and ran to the high school and back. My neck froze, and I remember thinking I had frost bite. I walked in the house and said "MOM! I think I have frost bite!" "No dear...you are just cold."

The next week my housemate turned 21, and while I walked around with a water bottle someone asked me why I wasn't drinking anything. I said, "I'm training for a half marathon. Running is hard enough for me as it is. If I drink all semester, I will just make it harder." He gave me a fist bump and said that it was something he could never do.

I remember my first 6 miler. It was the weekend my friend had come up to visit from Florida. I set my alarm for 7 o clock. When 7 o'clock rolled around, I hit snooze. For the next hour I tossed and turned in my bed. At 8:00 I couldn't handle it anymore--I WANTED to run. I think that was the first time I really believed that the half-marathon was going to happen.

For the next several weeks I continued to train. 7 miles...8 miles...

8 miles was as far as I had gotten. I wanted to push for 10 one day, but I just couldn't get myself to. This worried me, and suddenly I thought that the half marathon might not happen. Two weeks later, this past Sunday, I pulled my groin teaching a girl how to do a deceptive sweep. I thought that the dream was over.

I rested all week, did a shake out on Thursday, and I hoped for the best. I wanted to run this race.

Today, it happened.

I don't know if it was all the support I gained along the way as I told people what I wanted to do, or if it was the dream I had last night that I would finish the race, or if it was the thought that I finally did some sort of training for no one other than myself that got me to that finish line. But something got me there. I must admit, I was a bit lucky before the race. Others may say I should have felt unlucky, but moments before taking one last pee break and stretching it out, I locked myself out of my car. This ultimately...sucked, but was extremely helpful in getting me to focus on something other than the race (I did get back in after the race).

The race seemed to come and go as I ran past live bands, through a scenic park, around the city of Allentown and into J Birney Crum Stadium. Around mile 10, I thought of how easy it would be just to start walking, but I convinced myself that I hadn't trained all semester, I hadn't skipped out on a cheesesteak after a Phillies game, and that I hadn't cut fruity drinks out of my diet for no good reason. I was 100% in this to run it. And I did.

I have never felt more strong--or more weak in my life (I think my legs need to be cut off). And I must say: It is nothing short of the best feeling in the world.