This past weekend, I ran my last half-marathon. My last 13.1 miles. Let’s back it up a little bit.
I began my running journey in the early summer of 2022, and it was because I wanted something to do that wasn’t reading or writing essays that I knew no one was going to read. I bought some Adidas, waited the three days for shipping to kick in, and I started on my first run. Short, sweet, and just what I imagined: awful.
I struggled with breathing, I didn’t have good running clothes that I liked, and I just hated being sweaty. And I became hyper-critical of myself and how I looked while running. I know I played sports all throughout high school, but this was different.
I am an adult and I’m running for fun. It was a strange concept for me to understand, but I persisted in hopes that this would be something that would fall into place with time. After all, it’s not like I was paying for a gym membership or anything.
September rolls around and I’ve just completed my first 10k (6.1 miles) race, and I cried as I crossed the finish line. My friend Erin sent me the videos later, and I saw so much pride in my eyes. How ethereal it is to be proud of yourself, and it be so pure.
I signed up for a half-marathon in January, and this yielded overloading my practice. I trained and practiced and nursed blisters and drank so much water. My knees hurt and I was constantly switching between audiobooks, podcasts and so many playlists. I swear my Spotify wrapped was so confused.
The race came and went, and little did I know that it would be my best time and the start of a new hobby. I found myself finally feeling comfortable and confident doing. I looked forward to the practice and movement that I had, especially when I started working at a desk job where I was sedentary for too long. I had a serious case of the wiggles to say the least.
The next half-marathon was in March, and I struggled. The weekend before, I was encapsulated in my home and chained to my bed with the flu. And this would not let up, no matter how many hot showers and humidifiers I stood in front of.
Yet, I finished the race and I finished confidently and proud. Proud of my community, proud of my fellow runners, proud of myself most importantly. I knew that it felt right being there, despite the runny nose and chills I still felt. I signed up for my last, and it was in Des Moines, IA.
I learned quickly that this would be the largest event I would run in because of its caliber to the Iowa community. I was lined up with 6,000 other runners, and I felt like I could either scream, throw up or pass out from the energy surrounding me. As if I didn’t really need the Redbull beforehand. But it was too late, I was running.
I saw some classmates from high school, reunited with the city I grew up with, and eventually found myself back at the finish line once more. Tears in my eyes, screaming as my legs were in pain, and my mom on FaceTime.
I did it. I proved three times over just how powerful I am. How strategic running really is, and just how I used it to my advantage. I felt like I could trust myself for the future.
And that future looks like running a full marathon (26.2 miles) in a new city, with a new crowd, and a new group to experiment with and get to know.
Running was, and is, my escape from school work and my full time job. It is something I find interesting and love to push my limits to see just what I can do. I never fail to amaze myself, and this is a feeling I’ve been chasing since I dreamt of crossing a finish line and finally earning a medal.