13.1

I just ran 13.1 miles. After losing a loved one three days ago, I didn't think I had it in me. I contemplated canceling the race and even after I made it 1.5 hours from home, stayed overnight, and made it to the start line, once it got difficult I admit I still thought about quitting. My knees were killing me and that's no exaggeration. I had to stop every mile or so after mile 6 to literally jiggle my kneecap lose and keep on running. While I was stopped I also had to take my right shoe off to reposition the seam on my sock because a massive red blister was forming after only mile 4. Did I mention I signed up to this voluntarily?

But, here's the punch line. I am glad I did it. I am proud I did it even with all the messy emotions coursing through me at the same time. It was, if not fun, then cathartic. I felt I did a little bit to honor my loved one and myself by finishing it and in a pretty respectable debut finishing time too. Two hours, twenty minutes, thirty seconds of sweat, more sweat, jell-o legs and aching joints that will make walking difficult for the next couple of days. It was an amazing experience and though I can't exactly say I want to do it again anytime soon, I'm certainly glad I know I could one day if I chose to.

And for those of you who wonder what it took: About two months of inconsistent training composed primarily of short 3-4 milers and the occasional longer-distance 8-9 miler. I ran 2-3 times a week whenever I could manage a babysitter for the kids. And that was just about as much effort as I'm willing to give it. I might train more consistently and smarter (actually DO speedwork) in the future but I am absolutely satisfied that I got out of it what I put in. A decent, hard-earned finish that honored my family. I absolutely will keep running...now to grab a beer and a handful of ibuprofen.