Half-marathon finisher!!!!

I Did It!!!
Real athletes spend months and months (if not years) preparing for a big event. They eat, sleep, and train. They are focused on one thing and that one thing is to win. Because of these reasons, I would not call myself a real athlete. I really enjoy working out; however, eating healthy comes uneasy for me. I like my food, but I try … for the most part. I do workout at least three times a week. It is necessary for my survival. Sweating keeps me sane!
To kick it up a notch, on May of this year I decided to sign up for a half-marathon. As I registered and signed my waiver, I truly believed that I will have enough time to train and put everything into it. I had all the running days planned and mapped out and I even bought new running shoes. One day, as my alarm kept going off to let me know that it is time to start my training; I rolled over and slept until I had to go to work. “I have six months to train…I have more than enough time…one day will not hurt me!” I kept telling myself these exact lines day after day, week after week…I truly thought that I could handle the training, but full-time job, full-time school, and family drains so much out of me that I do not have time to do things that I enjoy. I have completed 5K races throughout the months and I considered them as training runs because if I did not sign up for those races, I would not have gotten any running in outside of those races. At the beginning of October, I was fearful to turn the pages of my calendar and see the highlighted note on it: “FrankenFooter Half-Marathon.” This day just kept creeping up on me and I ran out of time to train. I literally only ran about three-four 5K races throughout the six months. I was very disappointed in myself because I let time slipped by me and I did not act on time. I felt lazy and angry. Training or no training, I still had to show up and at least try running the whole thing.
On the day of the race, I woke up early with a big knot in my stomach. I could not get any food down because I felt very sick. It was just nerves, but I wished they would go away. The weather was very muggy. The sprinkling rain outside made me happy. I dressed up quickly and then I drove to the race field. I already had my bib on. I was number 1032. I will never forget this number…my first half-marathon number. My running buddies were already waiting for me at the starting line. As more experienced runners than me, they only signed up to support me on this event. Without rethinking anything, the gun went off…and off we went. I started to run slowly and steadily. I had the perfect pace. I felt strong and unstoppable. At mile four, volunteer kids were waving at us and encouraged us to keep moving. I needed it! After mile six, I started to break into walk and run because my breathing started to break. I felt the oxygen trapped in my shoulders. I tried releasing it by moving my arms like swimmers do, but it did not help. At the same time, I did not want to fall behind. I had to keep my pace. Who am I kidding? Without any training what am I expecting from this? The negative thoughts overpowered the positive ones. Then, I remembered my friends who were running with me to support me. I could not let them down. I had to keep going. At mile eight, my body was starting to ache everywhere. My knees and ankles were ready to give out, my lower back…well, I did not feel my lower back; it all went numb. At mile ten, I kept telling myself: “I only have a 5K left!!! I can do this!!!” Little did I know that those three miles were the hardest three miles I have ever run in my entire life. My body was in excruciating pain. I thought that my toenails were about fall off. The entire time, I was in pain. Then, I recognized the turn toward the finish line. As soon as I turned with the help of a ghostly power, I started sprinting toward the finish line. I heard yells and cheers echoing in the wooded area shouting at me. They were my friends’ voices encouraging me to take those few final steps. I felt tears rolling down my face as I crossed the blue-matted finish line. I ran to my friends crying: “I can’t feel my back! I can’t feel my back!” I could not even tell if those tears were from pain, happiness, or both. I was just happy that I was done! My friends all hugged me at once and congratulated me on my huge accomplishment. Then, they handed me a magnet that illustrated the numbers “13.1” on it.
Today, the day after the race, I am recovering as my body is lying helplessly in bed. But it was all worth it because I feel accomplished! I completed the half-marathon in three hours. I can finally say: I DID IT!!! I am a HALF-MARATHON FINISHER!!!