For My Running Partner, JB

I'm not sure whether it's naivety or narcissism that leads me to believe I can do whatever I want.

Yesterday I completed my first half-marathon, 13.1 miles.  Was I the fastest?  Not by a long shot.  Did I run the whole race?  Nope, I took a five minute walking break.  But with very little training, I ran--albeit slowly--nearly 13 miles.  And I cheered myself 100 feet into the race because I had officially gone further than my uncle Greg could (so he says).

As I was chugging along, I began thinking of how running a marathon is much like childbirth.

First of all, you must breathe through the pain and pressure.  Accessing your quiet place is a must.  Granted, I had my share of doubts going into the race.  I knew I was ill-prepared.  I mentally listed all the reasons why this could end in disaster.  What if I trip from exhaustion and sprain an ankle?  What if I stroke out from dehydration?  What if I have bathroom issues from nerves or my donut breakfast?  It wasn't until about mile 3 that I actually began believing I was not going to die in this foolish attempt to prove something to myself.

Secondly, much like childbirth, you have difficulty walking the next day.  And sitting?  Forget about it.  I have muscle pain in muscles I didn't know existed before today.  I'm choosing to believe that even the young bodies needed an ice-down...just like childbirth, you need those Tucks medicated pads no matter how old you are when you push that watermelon of a kiddo through your hoo-ha.

In both childbirth and marathon running, sometimes you poo yourself.  It's true, I've seen pictures.  This was a real, totally unfounded concern for me going into this race.  I have a stomach of steel....there was absolutely no reason for me to believe I would have a problem.  But still, I had visions of the sag wagon scraping my humiliated carcass off the pavement and delivering me to a victorious running partner awaiting me at the finish line.  Regardless, I took a huge gamble going into mile 6 and snatched up one of those energy gel packs at the water station.  My only other experience using them actually did cause severe stomach cramping.  This is how arrogant I was feeling about half way through this race.  I took the chance and sucked down that green apple gel like it would cause me to sprout wings and fly over the finish line.

I can't explain how, despite never running more than 5 miles, I ran nearly the entire half-marathon.  I discovered a new part of me...someone who can focus so intently on accomplishing one single goal that she can ignore all the self-imposed doubts and totally unfounded neuroses.  Sure, I didn't post the best time.  I wasn't even close to being middle of the pack (because mediocre is usually my goal).  But running the half marathon is something I did solely for me...to prove I could.  So whether I'm naive or narcissistic, I'm going to continue to do whatever my little heart desires...because I can.

I'm neurotic today because...
...I forgot the pain with my first sip of post-race beer.  Much like childbirth.