The First Half Marathon

So I’m thinking again this morning about how I got myself into racing a half marathon. To some, 13.1 miles is not a big deal. To others, it’s a daunting task. 13.1 miles … 21.1 kilometres. That’s no small feat. Who wants to get out there early in the morning, work through pre-race nerves, making sure that you’ve eaten enough, get the right gear on, make sure your laces aren’t too tight, make sure your laces aren’t too loose, get your legs warmed up .. the whole process of it all. Your mental checklist. Then the race starts and that’s a solid 70 mins for some but a good 2-1/2 hours for others of foot-to-pavement pounding. For me, I’ll be somewhere in the middle .. in the middle of the foot pounding, in the middle of the other 2,000 runners in the crowd .. maneuvering through it all .. trying to get in front of the next guy and not letting the guy behind you pass. And after it’s all over, you rest, you complain, you hurt. And sometimes you hurt for days afterwards, which robs you of those enjoyable training runs that led you up to this event. But cut through all the blood, sweat, tears, and pain — you’re still smiling on the inside. So why do i do this to myself?

Because I can. Because I will. And because it’s what i DO.


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