On Sunday, I ran my first half marathon.
The first half was a breeze. I ran the first seven miles w/o stopping, making pretty good time. But the second you stop, it’s hard to start back up. You’d think once you’ve completed more than half, what’s left is easy, but it’s the exact opposite.
I ran the first seven miles alone, but had told my friend that we would meet up at mile 7 to finish together. The stopping was a mistake. At mile 11, I was cursing people and preaching how it’s not natural for a body to run more than ten miles. It’s really not.
But we made it – we finished together in under three hours. I’d like to say my mood was proud and accomplished, but more than anything, I was irritable and sour. There were 30,000 people I had to push through just to be able to sit down. And that’s all I wanted – to sit down and give my legs a rest and my feet a breath.
I said I would never do a half marathon again, how I didn’t see how anyone could find this fun at all. Marie told me once I had a chance to heal up, I would reconsider (this was her second half marathon). I’ve already reconsidered. Steve and I are casually thinking about doing the Omaha half marathon. Now that I’ve done it once, the idea is not nearly as daunting as scary as it was before.
The trick is to think of what you’ve accomplished, not what you have left to finish. It’s a mind game more than anything.