thirteen point one.

I'm not a runner. Not in the traditional sense of the word; those people who just naturally run smoothly and fast and just love it from the get-go. I started running when Carly was 16 months old as a way to lose those last few baby pounds and a way to have some "me" time. I ran on a treadmill, 2 or 3 miles, and I liked it decently enough. After I had the twins, I started running again. I wanted to run a 5k, so I started running outside. The transition from treadmill to road was rough. It felt so much harder. I have bad knees stemming from a basketball injury in high school (highly frustrating, since I was a mediocre bench-riding basketball player), and it took a lot of stretching and strengthening to teach my knees to endure. It still does. But my outdoor training went well, and last Fall I ran a 10k. That race was my victory race. It will always be a special experience for me.

That 10k also lit a fire. I set a goal, I followed through, and I had the sweet thrill of success. I wanted more. A half-marathon entered my mind, and by New Years' I decided to make it a resolution. I got violently ill and ended up in the hospital on the first day of February. After that experience I could hardly walk, let alone exercise. When I started running again in April, it was starting from scratch. But I crawled my way back. I found a half on Labor Day and a good beginner training schedule, and I was excited. 

I met with a marathoner friend before I started. She shared her wisdom and fanned the flames of my excitement. She told me, "If you do this, it won't be your last one." My dad, a 23-time marathoner, was also a wealth of knowledge. As I went through the training process, all the "quirks" about my dad started making sense, like his habit of chugging glass after glass after glass of water morning and night. I remember one night I stood by the sink with the water running, chugging glasses of water. I laughed out loud. I was now my dad, and it was a really good thing.

My Summer of training was full of ups and downs. There was the pain and frustration of plantar fasciitis (which was cured by arch support insoles) and the hunt for the perfect shoe (I literally went on runs in 6 different pairs of shoes over the summer). There was the trial and error of finding the right food, the right fuel, the right routine. There were victorious Saturday runs. Each week they got longer and longer and longer. And each week we tackled them. I grew to love those Saturday runs. They were beautiful and empowering and completely exhausting. I needed a power nap every Saturday afternoon, and a long nap every Sunday to recover. But to go further than you ever have before week after week, now that is a good feeling.

I was blessed to share this adventure with two wonderful friends. When you live far from family, your friends are your family. I have always felt that in Michigan, and I am so grateful for my training buddies, because this first go around would have been so much harder without them. They were a source of sanity and camaraderie. They were there to cheer me on when I felt weak. I looked forward to our Saturday runs together. They were like GNO, only before sunrise and we burned 2000 calories instead of consuming it. Conversation makes 10, 11, 12 miles go by much faster. During the half itself, I was feeling so good at 10, I sped up too early. I was feeling pretty wasted at the end, but Jessica stayed with me, and Tara was right behind us. We crossed the finish line seconds apart.

Then there is my kids. If there is anything these kids have taught me, it is that I can do hard things. Its that hard things are often the best things. Its that the most rewarding things in life have to be worked for. To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure I would have had the mental and physical fortitude to do this before them. My pregnancy with the twins was the most painful thing I've experienced, not to mention childbirth (even with the miracles of modern medicine). Then you have months of sleep deprivation. The emotional toll they take on you is the icing on top. They made it possible for me to do this. They made me stronger. Not only that, but they were so wild every day that I couldn't wait to get away on my runs (ha!), and they were the very best cheering section when I got home. The morning of my first 10 miler (it was my first double-digit run, and I was nervous), I came home to cheering, squealing, screaming, jumping, and clapping. While a successful 10-miler will leave you feeling high, it doesn't compare to coming home to that.

After further analysis, I realized a half marathon itself is a lot like having kids. At first it seems like a really good, fun idea, and you're really excited. Then you get into it and you are wondering what the heck you were thinking . . . this is miserable. But in the end, you are happy, you are better, and you've devoted yourself to something greater than yourself. And it was worth it.

Let us talk now about my man. If you noticed, I said I found a half marathon for Labor Day. This meant I'd be done before Chris's semester picked up, and before Carly started school. I ended up sitting 2 weeks thanks to the mysterious foot pain that made it so I could hardly get out of bed in the morning. After solving the riddle of plantar fasciitis, I was too far behind my schedule to stick to it. It is hard to find a half here that is not on a Sunday, but I found one a full month later. Chris was set to start dissertating, and I tried to tell him I shouldn't keep running. He wouldn't hear of it. Half-way through my training plan, and I ended up almost starting at the beginning again, with a new race on October 5th. He got a proposal date that meant a LOT of work . . . in the weeks leading up to my race. We had some wild, exhausting weeks. Chris took the brunt of the pain, with long sleepless nights and evenings of holding down the fort while I ran. I have to say, the training took much more time and physical and emotional energy that I expected. I'm sure it being my first go-around exacerbated that. We lost a lot of family time, and even more couple time. We were both working toward huge, contrasting goals. And this man of mine was endlessly supportive. There were many nights I talked my running stress out with him, nevermind the intense stress he was experiencing. But while he could talk me through mine, there was only so much I could do for him. He had a lot on him, and still does, and I am so grateful he was there for me through this.

I mentioned I sped up too early during the race. At the very end there was a steep hill up to a bridge. I was dying up that hill. Just then, a familiar car slowed down next to me. Chris and the kids had the windows rolled down, and cheered me up the hill. They were late; they should have been waiting at the finish line already. But it turned out that they were exactly where I needed them to be exactly when I needed it. Chris has a habit of being exactly what I need him to be, and this was no exception. He is the best of men.

Now I'm going to admit something. Friends and family made it possible for me to do this race. Their support made all the difference. But the reason for my running a half marathon had very little to do with them.

About 4 weeks before the big day, I was struggling emotionally. I was hitting a wall and losing motivation. I was thinking while doing the dishes one night, "Why am I doing this?" Then I decided I needed to actually find an answer to that question.

The answer: because I want to.

As a mother of young children, you spend 95% of your time doing things for others. I eat while wiping counters. I take 2 minute showers with tiny fists pounding on the door. There are diapers and owies, park visits and play time. It is important for mothers to still be women, to still have hobbies and passions. It is so hard to find those things outside of our children. I view motherhood as my greatest calling, the single most important thing I will ever do in my life. And devoting my life to them is something I take pride in.

But I wanted just a little corner of my life to be just mine.

I just wanted to use that spare 5% to reach someplace new.

And this was it.

Running the open road/trail has become a passion.

It is something just for me.

I found a quote that said, "I loved life more because I ran, so I kept running."

That was spot on.

I'm not a natural.

I won't be setting records or impressing people with my speedy times.

But I love life more when I run, so I'll keep running.

And my friend was right: knees-willing, this half won't be my last one.

I ran my half marathon in 2 hours 17 minutes and 24 seconds, achieving my goal of sub-2:20.

During those final miles, I popped by headphones on.

A song came on, and as I neared the end of my long journey (in more that one way), the lyrics had a new meaning. 

Where there is desire there is gonna be a flame

Where there is a flame someone's bound to get burned

But just because it burns doesn't mean you're gonna die

You gotta get up and try, try, try.

I crossed the finish line at a full sprint, then walked to the side and laid down on the ground (because that is exactly what you're supposed to do . . . ). But while the world spun around me, I thought, I just ran a half marathon. And I felt very very good.

So here's to goals.

Here's to hard things.

And here's to doing something you've never done before.