I Ran My First Ever Half Marathon

So, I ran a HALF MARATHON!!  My first one ever. My first big major race (I always forget I did a mud run a handful of years ago, and I did do the 12K's of Christmas under someone else's bib, but it was a smaller scale race.)  I trained for 16 months in preparation for it.  I wanted to be able to do it, but I just wasn't sure I'd actually be able to get my body to run 13 miles!  I started small and just kinda ran a little and lifted a little and occasionally went to the track for my "speed work". 

Then I got the bright idea to download a training schedule from Runkeeper and follow that.  I started with the sub 10K to get used to the slowly climbing mileage and quicker paces.  I "nailed" about half of the workouts and completely bombed the others, but it was working.  I was getting stronger. Faster.  I was pretty good about lifting weights and walking with friends and swimming as "cross training" in the beginning.  The day came, and I ran on my own, the turkey trot loop that our neighborhood uses, and didn't come close to my goal time, but hey, I was able to run it, faster than before.  Success!  Then I moved onto half marathon training in Nov.  It started out great.  I ran the ACTUAL neighborhood turkey trot in Nov, relatively sick with bronchitis, and basically rocked it, and then just continued on with training.  I did the 12k's as a training run, and really did a bang up job there too.  Then life happened.

I stopped making time to stretch, I stopped going to the gym, I didn't cross train anymore.  December is nutzo month and I was squeezing runs in between other activities and meetings that were happening all month!  And then injury struck.  Intense pain in my legs.  So bad that walking became a problem.  I ran the Phoenix Half Marathon course just as the month of December was wrapping up and felt pretty confident, finished out the month with a mileage goal and by following the training plan as laid out by Runkeeper, and then couldn't walk anymore.  I threw in the towel and took 3 weeks off, went to the ER and no one could tell me what was wrong.  After talking with a friend we thought together...probably IT band pain.  Well by that point, I knew my goal of a sub 2 hour half marathon was gone.  I just couldn't get back those missed three weeks, and there was still just enough pain, that I couldn't speed up without adding to the pain.  And then I got sick with upper respiratory illness...again!

Anyway, flash forward to February and I re-picked up training and set a new goal.  9:30 overall pace, which would get me about a 2:05 finish time.  It was still a bit lofty, but something that I thought would be a good base, but I wanted to at least land sub 2:15.

Race day February 28th came.  I got up, ate a little breakfast (not much, it makes me kinda sick, but just enough to have some fuel in my body, got dressed in the clothes I had laid out three hours before, grabbed a banana, and headed out the door with my husband who was dropping me off at the buses.  I got to hang out with a pretty awesome couple of peeps laughing and joking, and shivering in the wind while waiting in lines for biffies (does that make us biffie buddies now) and for the start of the race to happen.

6:15, it was time to line up for the race, we ran to the start (for selfies of course) before heading to our spots based on time pacers and waited for the countdown.  I was alone.  That was okay, I trained alone, so I knew I could run the race alone.  I had "practiced" the course a handful of times.  I knew, sorta, what I was getting into.  I stood staring at the start line, misty eyed, thinking about what I was about to do!  I was out there at 6:30 in the morning about to run the streets of Mesa with thousands of others who had put in at least as much work as me, if not more!  We started and I felt great!  I was going to stick with the 2:10 pacer, but I felt so great, I forged ahead.  I was going 9:30!!  Success, my Goal B was going to happen!!

And then mile 2 happened.  I didn't feel real great, but still, I was cruising, so no major thoughts about it.  Then mile 4.  I needed to go to the bathroom, I knew I did, I almost stopped, and then I saw the lines and figured, nah, I'll just run through the growing discomfort happening in my gut.  Then I saw two of my sisters in law and a couple nieces and a nephew!  What the heck were they doing out there!  They didn't see me at first, I saw them, and then pointed at them, because I thought for sure my eyes were playing tricks on me.  I ran over and high fived them, because that's all I could give them for something so cool they did for me.  And although I still didn't feel very good, I forged on in my quest to become a 2:05 half marathoner.  Then a little after that I heard my name shouted to the left of me.  I glanced over and there was my MOTHER IN LAW AND FATHER IN LAW!!!  What was happening?!  She hadn't been feeling very well for a couple weeks, why was she out there!  Oh man it made my day.  She held up her phone, so of course I smiled huge and waved.  I couldn't believe it.  Just a few feet after that I met up with my friend who ran with me a couple minutes cheering me and handed me a pancake!!  I was laughing and crying!  How do you run laughing and crying?

By mile 6 I was suffering and absolutely couldn't put off a biffie stop any longer.  There was a small line, but I got in pretty quick.  Not much relief.  I charged ahead attempting to regain my speed.  I glanced down at my watch, feeling my body not moving nearly as quickly and realized, I may not ever see 9:30 again, but I'd be damned if I didn't try.  I was working. Hard.  Then my name again somewhere close to mile7 or 8...at this point I can't remember.  My mother in law...AGAIN!!  It was a sight for sore eyes.  I didn't feel good.  I was quickly derailing, and I needed a face I knew.  She was there. And I needed her to be.  Mile 9.  I was sick.  There was no denying it.  I was so sick.  I had grabbed a goo before then hoping it would help boost me up to the end.  But to no avail, I was failing fast.  Mile 10 and 11 became a run/walk/run/walk/run/walk....  it was terrible.  I felt like I was in the way of the other runners.  I tried to stay on the sidewalk out of the way.  My paces were so slow.  I was so upset, but I really couldn't do it.  Some of it was mental, but most of it was very legitimately illness and misery.  Then somewhere in mile 10 or so, another sister in law with her two tinys!  My niece and nephew didn't see me even though she was pointing.  My time was shot, but even if it wasn't, I wasn't going to let them go without a sweaty hug from Auntie Sarah!  Little nephew told me as I was walking away "We came to find you!"  I love him!

Mile 11ish is where my apartment is.  I won't lie.  I turned the corner and expected to see my children and husband, but they weren't there.  I looked longingly at my parking lot thinking, I should just go home.  I do not feel good.  I can't do this anymore.  A friend who had ran into me along the course shouted my name and snapped me out of that trance.  I glanced in her direction and then there were my babies.  There was my husband.  They had just walked down the street a little.  I started crying.  They were there. And I was sick. And I couldn't go on.  But then, I could.  I could finish.  It would be ugly, but I knew I could finish.  The look on my husband's face.  I'm sure the running stuff annoys him, but there was pride on his face in that moment.  He was proud of me and what I was doing.  And then I knew, he probably orchestrated my inlaws being on the course to some degree and I flooded with gratitude at that moment for the people in my life.  I ran.  And I walked, and I made up a tiny bit of time.  And as I was coming down the straightaway into the chute, there were my sisters in law who were around mile 4, at the end. Yelling my name, recording and waving, and I knew, I had it.  I hit my Goal C. 2:14!!

It was painful, and awful, and horrendous and glorious, and wonderful and exciting and the most fun I've ever had in my whole life.  I had conquered something I wasn't ever sure I would be able to.  It wasn't how I wanted it to go, but what in life works out perfectly?  Almost nothing.  I'll hit goal A one day.  In the meantime...I'm a first time HALF MARATHONER!  I finished what I set out to do.  I gained a better respect for the runners like me who put in the hours, blood, sweat and tears to hit goals and test their limits.  I am a runner.  I have a family who loves me and supports me, who cheered for me and who lifted me up when I was in the darkest depths of misery in those painful 2 hours worth of moments.  It's my first race story, and it's a great one! I can't wait to do it again.