After a long winter of training through the snow, cold, dark, and occasionally on the dreaded treadmill, I finally ran my FIRST marathon this past Sunday!
I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time- long before I officially started training.
I grew up playing softball- the most I would run would be a few laps around the field with a solid 50% chance of getting shin splints. In 8th grade I remember an announcement over the intercom about cross country sign ups. Cross country? What the heck is that? Is that some sort of chess club? (I have no idea why I thought it would be something like chess club, but I specifically remember having that thought pop into my head. Pre-teen brains are weird).
My friend and I signed up once we figured out it was an endurance sport that anyone can join. We were back of the pack runners- but we stuck with it because it was something different than our intense 2 hour softball practices in the spring, and long weekends at travel tournaments in the summer. I continued in high school, mostly to “put it on my resume” and to hang out with my high school boyfriend at the time, who was infinitely faster than me and actually cared about the sport. I don’t remember working hard at practice much – our team was very small and on average pretty unengaged, sitting in a teammate’s yard when our coach wasn’t paying attention or thought we were out running. Our XC sweatshirts literally said “Where can we hide?”. Running fast or long was definitely NOT my priority.
During my junior year, I watched my boyfriend finish a triathlon. I was absolutely blown away. It was nothing like softball or even my cross country meets. People of all ages, genders, and fitness levels were crossing the finish line. Everyone was cheering and supportive. They weren’t just doing it to put it on their resume. It was almost magical. I had to do one.
Fast track to all the other events, teams, and humans that got me to the running ability I have today. I am definitely no speedy Boston qualifier. I’m actually probably super slow compared to everyone else that considers themselves to be an avid endurance athlete. But what I love about running, is that you do it for YOU. You can prove to yourself that you can push your body and mind to places you NEVER thought you’d be able to. It’s meditative. It’s my me-time. It’s my stress-reliever. It’s my sleep enhancer. It’s my reality check.
After a few injuries and subsequent massive amounts of learning and improvement on my running form and my core/strength exercises, my marathon day FINALLY came. I trained through the entire cold, dark, New England winter for this. I gave up days and nights with friends, sleep, and other activities I usually enjoy for putting in my miles. Every time I hit a new distance during my long runs, I could not imagine having to add even one more mile, let alone 6 more. But I did it, and it was worth it.
Does anyone else get a little happy-teary towards the end of a hard race? Cause I do! Although I must say, at around mile 23 I was teary due to both joy of knowing I’m about to accomplish my goal, and teary due to the fact that I felt like I was going to throw up literally all of my Gu’s and Clif Bar blocks then collapse onto the street. But you know what? I loved every second of it. It was oh so magical.