In what felt like the longest and shortest two and half hours of my life, it was over. Four months of preparation culminated in a rush of exhaustion and victory. I finished my first half marathon on Mother’s Day with an average pace of 11:16 per mile. Considering I was not even running a full mile without stopping to walk in November, I am thrilled with this result. Initially, my goal was to just finish, then it was to finish in under 3 hours. My stretch goal was to finish in 2 and a half hours or less. If conditions were perfect, I felt I might be able to finish in two and half hours. With the encouragement of the women from my running group, we all made it across the finish line in a little under 2 and half hours.
The week leading up to the race I vacillated between confidence and terror. I had followed the program, put in hours of work, was well hydrated, and well prepared. There was no reason for me to be nervous. I had run several double-digit training runs, and I knew what to expect. That didn’t stop the moments of sheer terror and insecurity. Would I collapse at mile 12? Would people laugh at my time? Would I get injured? What if I overslept? What if no one really likes me? Okay, the last one has nothing to do with running, but it is a persistent, nagging voice despite all evidence to the contrary. My brain has a way of interjecting self-doubt whenever there is an opportunity. It did not help that we were told to cut back on running the weeks leading up to the race. I did not have many outlets for my nervous energy or to destress. I fought back against the voices in my head telling me this was a bad idea. On the day of the run, I did not oversleep, collapse, and no one laughed at me (at least I don’t know if they did), and my Facebook profile and comments still suggests that people do in fact like me.
The weather reports the week of the race all predicted a warm and sunny day. It ended up being cold and cloudy. This was a little tough at first. Even though I adjusted my clothing for the cooler weather, my hands were still cold for the first two miles and my muscles took a while to warm up. Eventually though, as my heart rate increased, I warmed up and the weather could not have been better. It was incredibly windy, but I have only ever run in Oklahoma. It’s always windy. I was too distracted with staying on pace to mutter more than a few “F^&%s here and there. I have since been told that this was one of the windiest races many of my fellow Oklahomans had run. I guess the wind was more intense than I realized. The course was hilly, and a really nice mix of urban settings and park settings. It was an out and back, so everyone passed you at some point. It was inspiring seeing the elite runners fly by us, and later, it was fun to high-five and cheer on my faster friends.
Though not much time has passed for me to really “look back”, I believe this will be one of my favorite experiences. It is hard to explain just how impossible I thought running this distance would be. I remember my first 6 mile run and feeling like there was no way I could complete more than twice that distance. I had a ridiculous amount of fun for someone doing 2 and half hours of cardio, in the cold and wind. Crossing the finish line was exhilarating. I was once again reminded that I can do the things in which I set my mind to, and that I can do difficult things. We all can. At the points in which I started hurting or regretting my choice, I reminded myself of all of the much more difficult things I had endured. Running a voluntary half marathon is hardly the most arduous. I have had my share of traumas and tragedies. If this were my most difficult accomplishment to date, well my life would be rather bland. Challenges, voluntary and involuntary, grow us into stronger, more complex, enriched, and empathetic people. I definitely feel stronger. I have gained so much confidence in the past 6 months. This experience has changed me, and I feel my life heading into new exciting directions. We all have defining moments where we look at things as “before or after X” event. For me, it is something that happened when I was 18, again at 19, then at 22, then before and after law school, and before and after kids. (There are some professional befores and afters, but I won’t bore you with those here.) A new one will be before and after the pandemic/year of the half marathon and marathon. (I have not even really written about the pandemic’s impact.) In a few weeks, I will be arguing two different post-conviction relief hearings, another thing I never thought I could do. This will be a defining and pivotal time for me. Partially because of the running, but the running is more of a metaphor for everything else swirling around me. My next challenge is a full marathon in a 143 days (countdown clock). I cannot even begin to imagine what will happen between now and then. Stay tuned. We will find out together.
In Medias Race 
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