13.1

i ran my first half-marathon today. this was an achievement for me since not only have i stated on several occasions that i would never be crazy enough to run for 2 hours, but who, on january first, would have laughed hysterically if i had been told i would even be running 7 miles regularly by the middle of february and a half marathon by the end of the year.

but life can change direction quickly and it did for me on january 9th and the bumps in the road i navigated for a week or two begged some form of outlet. so i put on my old running shoes and went out in the cold january nights, with not enough visibility gear and certainly not the right materials to run in. and to my surprise, not only could i run 5, 6, 7.5+ miles, but i enjoyed it. couldn't wait to go on runs, would laugh like a giddy school girl when my muscles pumped out a few jogging steps in ballet flats or flip-flops rushing between store and car, car and home. and the first few blocks of an actual run would find me just as joyful.

i loved to run. quite the novelty.

but then march hit with a bang and an injury. 10 minutes on the floor, sobbing, unable to get up, a few days in bed barely able to make it to the toilet to pee or get up from it again after i was done. thankfully {surprisingly}, my body bounced back and took only a week and a half out from running followed by a month of cautious runs, carefully monitoring the body i had neglected in my enthusiasm. the half marathon i was sure i would run in may became perhaps july in the chiropractor's words. july turned to august and with a rigorous work, rehearsal & producer schedule on the horizon, september became the last opportunity i would get to run a half marathon this year.

i closed my eyes, stretched my arm out and pointed at random: black diamond half marathon. here we go.

i had a month to train but had been logging fairly consistent 6-8 mile runs and my goals were modest: run the whole way, don't stop, cross the finish line. if i beat my sister's time of 2:04 yippe-ki-ay! but i knew that would be asking a lot. i am a pretty slow runner on a regular basis--the greenlake regulars pass me all the time and i pretend not to care, but i have to tell myself maybe they are only running three miles to make it okay in my head to just chug away one step at a time.

but then this morning arrives and i spent much of it wondering what the heck i had signed up for. after a late night party celebrating freehold's 20th anniversary and a 3am wake-up-can't-get-back-to-sleep-till-4am (thanks, wind) i was pretty tired and a little nervous. not nervous about whether or not i would finish, i knew i would, more because of the visible and exposed nature of the race. why did i feel the need to drag myself out of bed at 6:30 am and drive an hour out to a state park and run like a lemming around a 13.1 mile course and have a time publicly logged? why not just set out 13 miles around my neighborhood and call it a day. cheaper too and who needs a poorly designed shirt? but the excitement was contagious, gradually working it's way into my system and i realized it felt nice to feel a part of something.

and then we were off.

i started modest at the pace i typically run on my own. slow and steady. easy does it. but then it felt too slow. i had more in me, so we went from a 9:30 pace to a 9:05. then the 9:05 became an 8:55 and then an 8:40 and 8:20 at times. i kept pushing a little faster and my brother kept mocking my promises of an easy 10:30 pace that surely he could keep up with despite not training for 2 months {he's been cycling significant distances--very different muscles}.

first it was the tattoo-armed girl that was just that little extra ways in front of us. then the green shirt. then the grey shirted girl we learned is named jessica. one by one i set out to overtake someone and we did and without too much effort. at the halfway point, we were clocking in 5 minutes under an hour and that was without even trying and a slow first mile, mile and a half to boot. it was weird how easy it was. i mean, for a good part of the first half we were joking around between the two of us probably annoying half the folks around us who were heads down and serious, but we were having fun. i did worry that somewhere around mile 9 i'd tank out and all the people i had so boldly passed would then overtake me, but i couldn't hold back. it just felt right to go at the pace we were.

around mile 8, i left ross behind. he was having a hard race, his stomach a ball of acid and his body protesting the lack of practice runs as well as a lack of proper recovery from last week's 600 mile bike ride. so suddenly i was on my own and that was when the race really started for me. now it was just me forging ahead, picking up speed as i could, passing first the man in the blue and orange who we had alternately passed and been overtaken by. he turned and smiled at me acknowledging the current move of our leap frog game. i smiled back, again worrying my body would fail me and i'd see the back of him once and for all before too long.

i never did. i kept going as miles 9 and 10 started asking my body to work a little. but it did and still i kept passing the other runners. green shirt. red shirt. pink shirt. crazy shorts girl we talked to at the starting line who has run several halfs already and who was so far ahead earlier in the race. dark green shirt. one after the other after the other. then the little old lady who barely came up to my arm pit. she was my hero and that was near mile 11. a tough victory. i was to the point where i was thinking i could call it quits, take it easy and glide in probably sub 2 hours anyway. but something happened as i was rounding the corner into the park, the officials pointing the route we needed to take while throwing in an encouraging word. that's when i knew i wouldn't slow down, knew i could stride it out and knew i would do better than i thought i could hope to do on this first race.

and just as all this happened, the decisions made on a preverbal level and my body responding to the demands automatically, kicking it up a notch for those last miles, i slammed into a wall of grief. my chest squeezed up around my heart, tears started streaming down my face and i was overwhelmed by a great sadness. and while the rational part of my brain could monologue internally about the embarrassment i would feel if i broke down at the finish line or even somewhere in between, the rest of me was just running and running and running all the while softly cataloging the different dimensions of the feeling. it wasn't like in the past when a surge of grief overtook me as i did something i knew was taking me farther away from something i want {like sleeping with an ex i should have been long finished with}, no, this was more tied to the success i was about to achieve and how much i have gotten in the way of my own self historically. by achieving this seemingly impossible thing, i opened myself up to the truth of all the other million and one things i have told myself i couldn't have or do because they too felt impossible. and yet, here i am, able to do something just because i put my mind and body to it.

and perhaps part of it was grief for my poor mishandled body. this long and lean form i have criticized, prodded, picked at and blamed for so many things it was not responsible for or were simply untrue: my body is not beautiful enough to attract someone i am attracted to, she is not graceful enough, strong enough, a fit and athletic man would never want me {sadly a literal thought from the other day}, my skin is not good enough, even after losing a little weight i still have so much further to go, it's craving weird foods, why does it want to each so much, why did she just say that, do that, eat that???

if my body were a separate being, she would not be friends with my mind. my mind is a bully, my body is the weak kid with lunch money, waiting to be pushed in the mud.

and yet, here she is, generous and loyal to the core and so wonderfully showing up and doing exactly what i asked and even more. and even while i was able to feel a rare moment of untarnished pride, and as much as i was grateful, i was also sad for her and the abuse she has suffered through. deeply sad.

and to get through to the other side, i did what any actor would do: rather than fight the emotion, bring the emotion to the fight, put it into the work, or in this case, the run. so i breathed it out, put it into the ground, put it into my legs, slowed the wheezing breath that hadn't strained all race until the grief came and seized control of my chest. and mile 11 became 12 and i was still passing folks, and 12 gave way to 13 and what became the only brutal mile of the race. it went on too long, had too many hills and was full of the uncertain footing that trail running brings. my pace slowed. i passed someone on a hill only to be passed at the crest {the only person to pass me the whole race}. tanked out a bit until i felt someone coming up from behind. she never got too close but the threat was enough to light a fire under my bum to make it through to the end. finish line. photo. yippee. relief.

kind of surreal. more than a little exhausted. excitement in seeing racecourse friends catch up and finish: the red shirted man from mile 11 {just after little old lady} who gave me a high 5 as he walked passed asking if we broke 2 hours, crazy shorts girl, jessica, ross. the green shirted woman from several minutes behind who clocked herself in at 1:55. yes, success.

and now i am home with achey hips. taking an easy afternoon. stretching. bath time. compulsively checking for the results so i can figure out my time. resting in a clear victory of myself which is rare for me. i like to put caveats on things, lessen them a bit, but today i felt the deep consequences of that mindset and i'll try to change so that next time, there won't be such a battle. just me and my body, working hand in hand effortlessly letting success come in response to the simple elegance of making a decision and the athletic grace of putting your heart and muscle into something.