A combination of joy, sheer willpower, and the fact I told everyone around me that I had signed up for it contributed to the fact that on Sept. 27, I finished my first half marathon.
I’ve never considered myself a runner, and I’m always pursuing various intellectual or creative hobbies rather than physical ones. Two years ago, I wrote a New Year’s article about how I planned to view my year as a personalized marathon course. The peaks and valleys were ones that no map would show, and the hills were ones I would find on my own. At the time, it was nowhere on my radar that I actually had any intention to run a race.
Coming home from study abroad this past spring, I felt stuck. The girl who’d been gallivanting around Europe was colliding with the girl who’d be beginning her senior year. Coming across an ad for Boulderthon, I was intrigued, but I largely wrote it off as something that was being shown to me because I go to school in Boulder.
I couldn’t help but wonder: what if this actually was the universe showing me something I needed to see? How special would it be for me to push myself to try something new in my “Year of New” and see my college town in a completely different way? I explained my idea to my parents — my supportive yet realistic sounding board — but by the time I told them, I was already filling out the application and had committed to the fact that I would be running the Boulderthon Half Marathon.
Held in September, the race happens just as students are back in the swing of college and the trees are beginning to change — even if the Boulder temperatures aren’t fully committed to autumn yet. Signing up in May, I felt that I would have enough time to fall into the routine of training. This, however, was not the case. Signing up for a race didn’t change the fact that I don’t have a predisposition for running, and extraneous factors contributed to me training as minimally as possible. This set of bad habits only got worse as I returned to Boulder, and I found that a packed schedule and altitude dizziness caused me to pause running altogether.
I was in a situationship with my race. Would I or wouldn’t I run it? Each week of September was different; some weeks I would run, others not at all. Yes, people back home knew that I had signed up for the race, and having to admit that I didn’t run would make me uncomfortable. Some people want to complete races within a certain time, but I was so in my head that I was genuinely afraid that I wouldn’t even be able to finish the race — the only goal I had set for myself.
A week before the race at a Role Model concert — of all places — I got my answer. My sister said that she, too, was going to sign up for the half marathon. An important sidebar here is that my sister is one of the most physically fit people I know. Even with just a week to prepare, her regular training had given her the foundation to incorporate more cardio and be physically ready to run the entire 13.1 miles. I knew in my heart that while I wasn’t going to be able to run the whole thing, I had to push myself out of my comfort zone and do it.
The week leading up to it was chaos — but again, with the whole process being crazy, why would I expect the last week to be any different? A cold kept me from being able to breathe through my nose, but I began running and walking more extensively. Bibs were collected, running supplies were bought, and the week flew by until it was Saturday, the night before the race.
I slept as much as you would imagine a girl who has never run long distance with a half marathon to complete in the morning — so, not at all. I got out of bed at 4 a.m. to get ready, and my morning routine was the same, except my favorite songs blasted at full volume as I floated around my apartment partially still in a dreamlike state. It was pitch black outside, and I felt the same as I did when I was a little girl when my family had to head to the airport to catch an early flight.
This was an incredibly touching moment for me because my dad ran marathons. When I was a little girl, I remember feeling this exact way, except I was at his races. Every year, we went to Disney, and sometimes he would run the Disney Marathons. One year, I ran a race — I think probably less than one loop around the track — though I barely remember it and only can revisit through photographs. He always talked about the routes he ran and the little elements on the course that reminded him of my sister and I.
He picked up running as a consistent habit when he was in college, and it was his outlet. As an overwhelmed college student myself, I tried to tap into the calm that running brought him. When I began running over the summer, I found that whether I listened to something or nothing at all, my mind would be completely clear. This feeling was something that I’d never experienced before.
After getting myself out the door, I walked to my sister’s apartment. Together, we began heading towards Pearl Street, where the start line was. As we were walking, a kid ran past us. We laughed and said he must be racing that day too.
Deciding to cut through campus, we found yellow school buses shuttling runners down to Pearl. The bus was buzzing with energy, full of excited racers ready to begin. As my sister and I stepped off the bus, a kid came running past, and I realized it was the same boy who had passed us earlier. I couldn’t believe we’d crossed paths again.
As we reached the corrals, the sections designated by mile times where runners begin, a beautiful sunrise was happening. The entire experience felt surreal. People carrying signs, other runners, families, and friends were everywhere. Over the speakers, there was an announcer commentating on an apparent breakdancing competition that was happening. I never saw the dancers, but from what the announcer was saying, they sounded good.
Finally, the time came. The announcer counted down from 10 and… we didn’t move.
Boulderthon is an all-in-one event, meaning that every race, the 5k, 10k, half marathon, and full marathon all take place on the same course. With the longest distance to run, the half and full marathoners begin at the same time. The 10k goes out later, with a modified version of the course, as does the 5k. The reason we didn’t move for a while was because the runners with faster mile times go out first.
The average marathoner finishes 26.2 miles in around four hours and 30 minutes. The winners of the Boulderthon marathon, Finnian Jacobson-Schulte and Sasha Neglia, finished the race in two hours and 30 minutes and two hours and 58 minutes, respectively. The half marathon winners Reed Fischer and Emily Durgin, finished in an hour and four minutes and an hour and 16 minutes, respectively. Since their average times were 5:44 and 6:49 per mile, they went out first so the flow of the marathon was managed.
However, this meant that we heard the countdown multiple times before we crossed the start line. Once we began running, I still couldn’t believe I was actually running. For the first two miles, my sister and I stayed together, and I ran faster than I did in my training. This is something you’re not supposed to do because with so many miles ahead, you don’t want to get exhausted too early. However, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to retain a state of running, so I kept up with my sister for as long as I could so I could hang out.
By mile three, though, we split, and I watched her run into the distance. Boulderthon blocks off many of the major roads, and it was an incredible experience to see the city this way. I can’t verbalize what seeing hundreds of runners together on the same course was like. I get choked up watching marathon runners interact with spectators when I see videos on my phone, and it was tenfold actually experiencing it. Other runners were cheering for each other and in one section, two roads ran parallel, and runners on each side were high-fiving.
Although I took photos of each mile marker, for the most part, I feel like chunks of the race blended together. There was one section that was just hills. It felt like as soon as I had run up and down one, another waited. It was beautiful to see the mountains — even as I got further and further away from them. At one point, a man wearing a hot dog costume and another running barefoot passed me. Running marathons barefoot is not a rarity, and many runners view it as a method that uses less energy and is better for your body. As someone who is overstimulated by any amount of clothing on me while I’m running, I couldn’t imagine running in a costume, let alone barefoot on the pavement.
One of the most memorable sections of the race was the last few miles. I watched as the female marathon winner, who was still able to talk and cheer us on, quite literally fly by. There were a number of houses along the route, with families and their young children outside. One girl had drawn a hopscotch board on the ground, so obviously I had to give my best attempt to play. Another had a witch’s hat on and said that she was giving out magical high-fives. At another point, a boy passed me. And who was that boy? The same one who I had already seen twice that day. One woman sat outside her house, and I thought as a result of moving for over eight miles that I was seeing things, but no, she was sitting down, petting her mountain goat.
There were numerous creative signs people made either cheering on their loved ones or strangers. I felt like Owen Thiele’s character, Anton, in “Adults,” who, after lying about signing up for a marathon, jumps over the barrier and pretends to jog for less than a few seconds to impress his coworkers. Every time I passed a cool sign saying to run, I would pretend to jog, only to stop a few feet later. Towards the end, there was a little girl and her dad handing out halved frozen popsicles, and I attribute being able to get through the last mile to that treat.
After finishing, I sat down with my sister who had been waiting for me and drank an apple lemonade, unable to feel my legs. While watching the excitement everyone was experiencing, it was still difficult to fathom that I had just finished 13.1 miles. I made my Instagram caption, “I’ve never run more than two consecutive miles,” and it was still true. Even though I didn’t break any records with my finishing time, this couldn’t have been a more important experience for me. Getting to do this with my sister, and being able to finish the race — despite previous doubts — will forever be something I look back fondly on.