HALF way there.

When I was in high school, my JV field hockey coach ran a full marathon for her 26^th birthday. A marathon in 26.2 miles, which means she ran 26 miles to commemorate and celebrate each year of her life. Having never been much of a runner myself, I doubted I could ever reach such a milestone and I never took training for a race very seriously.

This year, though, as my roommate was planning to run her second half marathon – do the math, now, that’s right: 13.1 miles, she decided for me that I was going to run the Knoxville Covenant Health Half Marathon with her. Still not 100% convinced I had it in me, I said “okay” with little, to no conviction.

When I first started running for sport – not just away from attackers and toward food – the challenge was building my will to continue. Not that I was lacking stamina or strength, but that I thought I was. I developed a mantra, “what kind of person will I be if I stop running?” I’d be a quitter. Not wanting that, I’d push on through pain and uncertainty. Over time, the mantra evolved into, “what kind of person will I be when I finish?” The satisfaction of completing a goal is that much more motivating than the disappointment of failure. This is true in life as well. In fact, I’ve found that a lot of what’s true in running is also true in life. A lot of the time, I don’t feel like running or seeping out of bed, for that matter. With this idea of, “what kind of person will I be when I finish,” I find the will to get up and go even when I don’t feel like it. Even if my body or my mind aren’t able to achieve the day’s running goal, to get up and do it is half the battle. It’s a life lesson: get up and go – “it” being a run or life in general. Nike’s had it right for a long time, “Just Do It!”

After several weeks of training, building our distance from three and four miles to eight and ten, race day finally arrived. Still not 100% convinced I had it in me, I woke up at 5:30 am and laced up for the half. The race took me from downtown, through campus, along the river, down Cherokee Boulevard, along Third Creek Greenway and Tyson Park, into Fort Sanders and finally finishing in Neyland Stadium. It took me from excited, through anxious, along pain and discomfort, into anticipation and finally finishing with the biggest swelling surge of endorphins and pride I’d ever felt in my life. As I reached the 11-mile marker, I thought to myself, “two more miles? You’ve already done this five and a half times today. Easy.” As I reached 12, I thought, “one more mile? Push harder.” And when I saw 13, I thought, “you’ve been training for this and you’re about to complete it. You’ve done it.” I opened my stride and I sprinted into Neyland Stadium and nearly cried as I crossed the finish line and a hulking UT football player put a medal around my neck. Two hours and eleven minutes later, weeks of training had brought me to a finish line I never imagined I could cross. Proud!

My relationship with running changed dramatically through my training. Previously, I thought Forrest Gump was the definition of a “runner;” go far, go fast, go for days without an ounce of self-doubt. Previously, I was wrong. The running community is an amazing one full of encouraging words, Internet groups and motivating memes. It’s not exclusive to the Gumps and Steve Prefontaines of the world. It’s open to anyone brave enough to lace up and take on a new challenge. Even if the challenge is to run to your street sign, that’s how it starts. I’m ready to train for that full now. I know I’ve got it in me. There’s no greater feeling than setting out to accomplish a goal and then… actually accomplishing it.

 

In the words of famous runner and author John Bigham, “I am a runner because I run. Not because I run fast. Not because I run far. I am a runner because I say I am. And no one can tell me I’m not.”