13.1 Best Moments of My 13.1 Miles

Somehow still smiling after 2:25:01 of literal non-stop running.

So, Her Campus readers, I did it. On October 13th, 2013, almost six months after the Marathon bombings and eight months after I set my goal to do it, I ran the Boston Athletic Association Half Marathon. And let me tell you, it was challenging, but it was fantastic. In the past, I’ve given you these articles like “13.1 Pictures of Puppies for Your 13.1 Miles.” But now, it’s time to talk about my 13.1 miles. Here were my favorite parts:

1. The course and the weather: It’s a manageable course, with a general decline in the beginning and an incline for the second half. Some people were very challenged by the hills at the end, but as long as you don’t go out too hard in the first few miles, it should be okay. It gets a little narrow (read: single file, surrounded by brush and bushes) between mile 12 and 13 in the Franklin Park Zoo, but I ran through a zoo, so I was 100% okay with that. You can find a map here. The weather? Perfect. Couldn’t have asked for better conditions—sunny, but breezy and very cool.
2. The view: You know that phrase that’s been going around, “Say Pumpkin Spice Latte three times and a white girl in yoga pants will appear and tell you all her favorite things about fall?” Well, first get to the Half course, do that, and the girl who appears will be speechless. The B.A.A. website says, “[t]he 13.1-mile, rolling course is an out-and-back route that runs along the Emerald Necklace park system. The B.A.A. Half Marathon will begin and end at White Stadium in Boston’s Franklin Park. The park, one of the oldest in America, is located in Boston’s Jamaica Plain and Dorchester neighborhoods.” So, in summation, it’s breathtakingly gorgeous and I’m planning on getting back to the Arborway and Jamaica Pond ASAP, just so I can Instagram the foliage. Sue me.
3. The spirit and energy:  Admittedly, I was undertrained. I freaked out before the race, thinking of all the things that could go wrong, and I was discouraged for a bit when people started passing me. But somehow, after only about a mile, I realized I could do it. The reason? Everyone around me. The volunteers telling us we were doing great, the spectators screaming the name they read off my bib, the collective energy of everyone running towards the same thing. Yes, they may have been going for PRs and I definitely wasn’t, but we were still shooting for the same thing—crossing that finish line. The endorphins and the energy made for a great runner’s high and I didn’t feel any pain, then or now.
4. Seeing the wheelchair division and the elites pass me: Because much of the course is comprised of u-turns, it was such an inspiring sight to see the lead wheelchair competitors hit their sixth mile as I was reaching my second or so. If I had any doubts about being able to make it to three, they were quickly shot down as they zoomed past. I didn’t get to see the Elites run by, but I did in the 5K and it was also a sight to behold. Maybe I’ll never be as fast as them, but I can at least run the same course and give it my all.
5. Seeing the regular participants pass me: Professional runners spend their careers training to run way faster than me at all times. The rest of the pack, not so much. Many of them are faster than me, I don’t mean to belittle that, but it’s so cool to see the upper-middle of the pack running in the opposite direction as you. I can aspire to be a world-class record setting Olympian, but the Average Joe who is only two miles ahead of me on the turnaround shows me what I can really do if I try harder. It’s a realistic goal, and one that I’m happy to take on for next time.
6. The small children and dogs: Elaborating on the spectators theme here—I have never seen cuter children than the ones holding signs and holding their hands out for high-fives on the side of the road. When I grow up, I want to be as awesome and excited to be alive as they are. After the fifth mile, I started trying to give some extra love to the kids that every other participant was running past. The looks on their faces when I smiled and slapped their hands made my month. And the dogs? I saw seven different ones that I’d be willing to cuddle with forever, especially after the race.
7. The signs: I’ll just list my favorite ones here. And one day, I’m gonna be an awesome half marathon sign-maker. Professional spectating, here I come.

• “13.1 means you’re only half crazy!”
• “Run like you stole something!”
• “Let my dad pass you!”
• “Hey, it wasn’t easy to get up and make this sign either!”
• “WTF: Where’s the Finish?”

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8. The camaraderie: I didn’t sign up to run with anyone, and when I helped to fill the field size in a record of twelve minutes back in July, I didn’t know that anyone else from BC was running. I didn’t train with anyone and I flew solo during the race itself. (I did end up seeing some friends at the event, and took pictures with them after the finish.) My parents came up for the last football game so they didn’t come to see me run, my boyfriend and a large portion of my friends went home for the weekend. For all intents and purposes, I was alone. But the funny thing is, it didn’t feel that way. Maybe it had something to do with the shared goal I mentioned, or maybe the running community in general, but I felt like I had known everyone there before I arrived. My ride to the race was a friend from Northeastern, and even though I only met his boyfriend the night before, I spent the entire pre-race wait with them, and it was a great time—it was so nice to have someone new to hang out with, who actually shared a lot of my interests. I chatted with a woman who lives in New York when we queued up in the corrals and she told me all about running the ING NYC Marathon. I finished alone, but I wasn’t lonely.
9. The charity: Dana Farber is the official charity of the B.A.A. Half Marathon and the Boston Marathon, and I wanted to run for them so badly! It’s a minimum of $500 raised to run with the team, but because I’d like to run with the Campus School Marathon Team this year, I’m waiting to hit up my friends and family for money. I loved their singlets, I loved their private photographers along the course, and I loved their spirit. I’m doing it for Dana next year (so please write me a check now, HC BC readers. No? Okay…)!
10. The fun atmosphere: For all the people that were shooting for PRs or aiming to win, there were just as many people having fun with it. I saw tons of people wearing tutus (as can be expected in many races), I saw Superman-cape socks, I saw a dude in a banana suit. I saw an older man running barefoot as he trailed about a mile behind me at the first u-turn, I saw a guy running backwards on a slight decline after mile 11. I SAW A GUY JUGGLING THREE BASEBALLS AS HE PASSED ME UPHILL AFTER THE FIRST MILE. Why? Why would he do that? Even though I was initially stressed out that someone was juggling and still running faster than I was, I realized that was a sign to lighten up, and take the race as it came. Maybe next time I’ll wear gold lamé. 
11. The fashion: Speaking about gold lamé, I don’t know if you all have the same workout-clothes-shopping addiction I have, but my carts for Nike, Adidas, and lululemon have all reached the quadruple digits price-wise after scoping out what everyone else was wearing on Sunday. (Disclaimer: putting something in your cart is not the same as actually buying it. It’s like… saving it for later so you remember to get it. Right?)
12. The food and attractions: Pre-race, I got my tech shirt (which is awesome, by the way, thanks Adidas!) and I bought the official “Boston Stands as One” shirt to benefit The One Fund. I checked out the Dana Farber tent (I got a cool free hat at the 10K and had been hoping for another—no luck), I took tons of pictures, and I wandered around the field. Post-race, I ate EVERYTHING—Gatorade, PowerBars, bagels, bananas, pears, a burger from the b.good stand, about three bottles of water. I stopped at the True Runner stand, and used a foam roller for the first time (ouch), and I got cool new flavored water from Poland Spring. The B.A.A. has killer sponsors and partners, y’all.
13. FINSHING THE 2013 DISTANCE MEDLEY: I cried for a full three minutes after crossing the finish. I ran the 5K, 10K, and Half Marathon—despite the training and travel challenges, despite the bombings and subsequent rush to register, and despite my own self-doubt, I did it. It felt and still feels amazing, almost indescribable. Thank you, B.A.A., for putting this sequence on even after April 15th. Thank you, Dad, for driving me up to Boston in the middle of the summer so I could do the 10K. Thank you, everyone, for wishing me luck and telling me I could do it. All I can say is thank you, thank you, thank you.

Posing with my medals after each race!

1. The hardware: Because I was a Distance Medley participant, I wore a yellow bib (people who didn’t run all three events wore white) and at the end of the race I not only received the awesome Half medal, but also an amazing DM finisher medal. I clinked the entire way home and into the dining hall! (Also, the DM finisher medal I received was a little tarnished on one side, so the wonderful volunteers let me trade it in for a new one before I even left Franklin Park! You rock, B.A.A. volunteers!)

So, that’s it. That’s the 13.1 best moments of my 13.1-mile journey to the finish line. Thanks for reading with me and for running with me. As I’m writing this, there are exactly twenty-seven weeks to go until the 2014 Boston Marathon. Maybe you’ll be getting some 26.2-themed articles soon!

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