I just completed my first half marathon this past Saturday. The Country Music Rock n' Roll Half Marathon that is. I still can't believe I'm saying that (someone pinch me, please). Now to some of you that may not seem like such a magnificent accomplishment but for a girl like me, the girl that's lost 85 pounds in the last few years and would've fallen over dead laughing if you'd told her she was going to run a half marathon some day — it was a pretty BIG DEAL. Mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually . . . it took it all and I have a feeling that my life is never going to be the same again.
After 5 months of training I have to tell you that I've never been so happy to see a landmark (in this case LP field) or cross a finish line in my life. The start of the race was fantastic (insert sarcasm) — waking up at 4:20 a.m., catching a shuttle bus while garbed in rain ponchos and glad wrap-and-seal around our ankles to keep our feet dry. Yeah, um, sexy. And then of course there was the standard 40-minute wait at the porta-potty watching all the other cute little tiny-something runner girls prancing around in make-up, coiffed hairstyles and perfume while you feel like a frumpy mess and wonder exactly when your moment will come . . .
But then that magical moment happens where you remember why you are here and have butterflies in your stomach. Suddenly you're standing in line with 30,000 other people waiting for your turn to cross the line in waves and adrenaline takes over — at least for the first 4 miles anyways. And just as I was getting tired and needing motivation to keep going, I look up and there were my wonderful parents (who had flown in all the way from Puerto Rico) and two nieces to cheer me on and give me a hug at mile 6 & 8. They have no idea how much that meant. No idea.