A year ago, I crossed the finish line on my very first half marathon, after unexpectedly giving up running when I became a mother. Like many pregnant people, I hung up my running shoes shortly after finding out I was pregnant, fully intending to put them back on once cleared for exercise.
Complications during my first labor meant that I left the hospital with a nearly 10 pound baby boy and a medical grade walker. Recovering from a dislocated hip while simultaneously caring for an infant was anything but easy and it would be nearly a year before I was able to walk without a limp, needless to say going for a run didn’t even cross my mind. Another year past and my running shoes continued to gather dust, when I found out I was pregnant yet again.
In the back of my mind, I longed for long uninterrupted hours pounding the pavement, but life with two young kids required most of my time and attention and my desire to run was mostly pushed aside. Fast forward 8 whole years, and one unexpected conversation with a friend changed everything for me. When said friend casually mentioned that she was thinking of signing up for a half marathon I told her to count me in without even thinking. The truth is, I repeatedly thought about running just one more race post kids and that one conversation was all that I needed to commit to a long awaited dream, to cross that bucket list item off of my list.
I hadn’t run since becoming a mother and only had 12 weeks to train, but I knew I was supposed to be running this race, not against the clock but for myself. Prior to having kids my longest distance hovered somewhere around 4-6 miles, so the jump to 13.1 miles was daunting and required an insane amount of effort especially after avoiding running for years. I put in the time and the effort, checking off mile after mile, shaving off minute after minute, and by the time the race appeared I felt ready or at least capable of trying.
On race day, I was nervous but excited. The thing that surprised me the most was that running my first half marathon was actually quite easy, training was NOT but the actual race, 13.1 consecutive miles flew by in a breeze. I felt as if I had additional miles left in my legs as I crossed the finish line, the last 3 miles of the race were my fastest by far.
The reason that race was easy for me was not because I am an exceptional runner, far from it. My first training run was 2 miles, and I actually walked the second mile. After that I slowly and surely added a mile here and a mile there until I was ‘comfortably’ running 8-10 miles at a time. These runs were long, but they served a purpose and they added up. In the 12 weeks I trained for that half marathon, I logged over 250 miles, a number I never could’ve imagined before apprehensively signing up.
Fast forward 12 whole months and I am embarrassed to admit that I have not run since, or at least I hadn’t until last week. Two terrible runs in the past year barely qualify me as a runner, and yet I am once again feeling the itch to hear my feet hitting the pavement. I am not sure if I will sign up for another race, but I am excited to be running toward myself again.
Life is a marathon, not a sprint. Running, like life, takes consistency and persistence. We must continue to show up day after day, mile after mile, in pursuit of the things that matter most to us. What is your version of my half marathon? What is the thing you want to check off your bucket list? What would it take to start running toward it?
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