So. In less than 24 hours I’ll be running the Bearathon.
That’s the sign I saw for about a month every time I went into the gym. It was a nice reminder that I’ll soon be dead so I may as well give it my all. Why dead? Because look at it closely – go ahead, get your glasses on or just get all up and personal with your computer – it’s fine. No one is looking.
“Toughest Half in Texas”
Yep, it says that. And yep, I believe it. I mean, look at these hills? This is a serious situation I’ve gotten myself into. Why didn’t anyone try and talk me out of it? What friends you are. Sheesh.
But on the serious, this race specifically has been the one I’ve been working towards this entire past year. It was always sitting in the corner of my mind, staring at me, reminding me, of something I said in passing.
You see, last year, I ran the 5k portion of it and as I finished it 9 minutes faster than my 5k time in January – it hit me. I like running. Total weirdness. After the race, I spent the day with My Emilie where we decided to stop by the Farmer’s Market which happens to be located near the end of the Half-Marathon course. So, we had to wait for people to run/walk/puke by before we could park.
I remember saying, “I don’t care how much I like to run, there’s no way I’d ever run for 13 miles.”
And we both laughed hysterically at the idea of running that far while agreeing that was pretty much for the crazies in the world.
And much like my food post the other day where I mentioned how I explicitly remembered calling someone fat – I remember saying that like it was just 10 minutes ago. I remember me feeling that was true. I would never call myself a half-marathoner. I wasn’t capable of that.
And here I sit. Typing to you. Getting ready to run my third.
Getting ready to run the one that started it all.
I am more nervous than I have ever been before a race. It feels so surreal to think that I’ve been running for a year. A YEAR. And that I want to run for many more. When did I become such a motivated person? I’ve always just coasted through life, doing what I had to do to get by, so this. THIS. This just shows me that I should never close the door on something because I don’t think I’m capable.
When people ask me how I do it, how I run for 3 continuous hours, you know what I say?
I just do.
And it’s true. I just keep
swimming, err running. (Nemo FTW!)
More often than not while running I’m fighting a constant battle within my head,
“Do I keep going? Do I stop? Why would I stop? I’ve already gone this far. Because this is stupid. It’s your legs. Just stop if they hurt. Sheesh. But they don’t hurt that bad, do they? I could go another 3 minutes. Yeah, that’s it just another 3 minutes.”
And tomorrow, I’ll be fighting again as I lace up my shoes, wipe the sweat from my brow, hit play on my iPod, and just do.