A few weeks ago I ran my first half-marathon. It was just a couple of months ago, in January, when I was at the finish line cheering on my best friend after her Tinkerbell Half-Marathon at Disneyland. I told her, “I can’t even run 1 mile. You inspire me.” And that she did. I told her that I would run the Tinker Half with her next year so I thought I would test my limits. I started with a 5K then I worked my way to a 10K and finished that with a half-marathon. Never in my life would I have thought that I would be able to run 13.1 miles, even running 3 miles was a challenge. I honestly almost burst into tears as I crossed the finish line (partially because my legs were killing me).
At the beginning of my race, my K-Tape fell off my injured knee. I lost one earbud cover from my headphones and I felt like I didn’t stretch enough. I had to brush all of that negativity from my head and start the race. I kept telling myself to stay at a steady pace. Not too fast, not too slow. Just like an all-you-can-eat buffet. Start off slower so that you’re not stuffed with just the first plate. I was at mile 3 when I told myself “How am I going to run 10 more miles?” Mind over matter, mind.over.matter.
I hit a wall at mile 10. I wanted to stop. I was hungry, sleepy and I couldn’t feel my legs. There were only 3.1 miles left. Just a 5K left, that’s it. But I walked. I walked for a few minutes until someone behind me said “COME ON! WE’RE ALMOST THERE!” And because of that comment, I ran until I crossed the finish line and had that finisher’s medal in my hand 2 hours and 24 minutes later.