Sara and Sarah came to cheer me on, thus the sign; they are awesome. I'm standing with Erica, who suggested I run the half marathon in the first place.
The race started off really well; it was only sprinkling a little bit and I felt good with the pace we set. After a few miles, though, the skies opened up and poured down rain on us like an Ark was going to go floating by any second. It rained like that for about a half hour, long enough to thoroughly saturate every piece of clothing I had on, from my socks to my hat. When the rain let up, the wind picked up, and so we ran cold and wet, ran and ran and ran.
Running cold and wet wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. It was uncomfortable, but not so much that I ever considered stopping. We were lucky that it didn't really pour down rain until we were nice and warmed up, so aside from some blistered toes (wet socks chafe like ... something that chafes a lot) the rain didn't really make the race worse than it would have been otherwise.
I felt pretty good, even on the hills, of which there were many. I felt good, that is, until Mile 10. Ten miles is as far as I ever ran in training, and the training program assured me that I'd be able to do the last three miles no problem on race day with all the adrenaline and excitement of the other people on the course. Unfortunately, nobody told my legs that. At Mile 10, my legs sent a very clear message to my brain that went something like this: "Okay, awesome! Good race! Time for stopping!" And then "Stop now?" And then "Um, seriously, this is far enough. We've been doing this for two hours, and that's really all we signed up for. Stop or be stopped, crazy lady!" It hurt, and I could feel every stride all down each leg like an electric shock.
It was around that point that I began to struggle to keep up with Erica, and where the sum total of my conscious thoughts became "left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right" as though I could keep running without using my muscles at all, but by exerting sheer will over my feet. Finally, finally after 5-6 hours of that, or maybe only 20 minutes or so, we saw mile marker 12. And the world was full of joy and light. Erica turned and looked at me and said "Come on, we can do anything for one mile! One more mile!" And she was right. We cranked it. I could move again, and the pain mellowed, and I kept right on her heels until we could see the big archway, and then we ran like we were fresh and new and hadn't just powered through thirteen miles. I crossed the finish line, and saw my friends waiting for me with a sign, and very nearly burst into tears.
I am so blessed to have so many wonderful friends; people who support me no matter what crazy adventures I embark on. People who stand in the rain with signs or call me with messages of love or generally just keep showing up... they keep showing up. I could wrap myself in the warmth of my friends and the glow of accomplishing a goal I wasn't sure I could really do, wrap myself up in that feeling for days and days. Thanks, guys!
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