Posted by: LovelyAnomaly | December 3, 2010

Reverb10.3 – Moment

I’m participating in Reverb10 this December.  Join in here.

December 3Moment. Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors). (Author: Ali Edwards)

It was somewhere in between mile 8 and mile 9.  That’s when I felt it.

After a few years of talk but no action, my close friend finally persuaded me to register for a half-marathon.  We registered simultaneously over the phone, and after we had clicked “Submit” we both let out sighs.  And then immediately questioned if we were crazy.  Maybe, but we were also determined.  It was, after all, the year of more.

Training had not gone very well.  I would run on Tuesdays and Thursdays with my running buddy.  I even managed to get my lazy butt out of bed to go running at 7 in the morning.  The problem was that after six miles, my knees would feel like an anvil was slamming onto them with every step I took.  It wasn’t pretty.  It wasn’t anything detrimental, it was just a matter of trying to fix my running form (my former high school track coach would be so ashamed to see how my form had changed over the years. Oops).  But as the day of the half-marathon edged closer, I still hadn’t ran over 6.5 miles.

Would I still run it?  Of course I would, I told myself.  I already paid for it.  I said I would do it, so I was going to finish it.  Simple as that.

The day of the big race came, and my friend and I ran together for the first five miles or so before my knees started to bother me and I told my friend she could move on.

Mile 6 passed.  I was still running.

Mile 7 came.  The pain was there, but the determination was stronger.  I walked, but not for too long.

Mile 8.

The course took us into the middle of one of my favorite parks in the city.  My bright blue running shirt was salty with sweat.  My knee ached.  I started to realize that I should have put on some sunscreen before running outside for three hours.  There were no fans cheering us along in this section of the race.  It could have felt lonely.  The grasses and the wildflowers were already taller than me, and they swayed in the wind; I think they were hurrying us along–pointing us in the right direction.  A red-winged blackbird called out from within the meadow, cheering us on and marveling in our determination (obviously).

It was in between miles 8 and 9 that I realized that I was still running, still participating, still alive. The adrenaline of race day had powered me through, and I wasn’t about to quit.

After mile 9, we emerged into empty country roads.  At mile 10, C was waiting with a big sign and a warm smile.

11 miles down.

12 miles down.

At mile 13, my friends were there to cheer me on to the finish.

13.1 miles.  I ran across the finish line with a smile on my face and my hands in the air, triumphant.  I had done it.

Through the pain and the sweat, I had done it.

And I was still alive.

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Responses

  1. love this! i haven’t run a half but i want to run a marathon.. the most i’ve ever run in one sitting was 8 miles and my ankles felt like they were going to snap off!

  2. This is pretty awesome. I’ve never done anything nearly that amazing.

    But, way to go on finishing. I often have trouble with finishing things. I get scared, or lazy, and I flake out. So, good on you!

  3. This is awesome! It’s amazing what your mind (and some adrenaline) can do right?! 🙂

  4. Awesome! I just recently wrote a post with a bucket list of sorts and I put “Run in a marathon” on it. I think I’m going to sign up for the half-marathon coming up next May.

  5. Running is incredible and I had a few friends who ran marathons. I am in awe of the you all who have the ambition and determination to see this through.


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