The Beginning of the End

I met a boy, got married, and decided to have children. I translated our decision to reproduce as the demise of my future hopes and dreams and compiled a Bucket List, which included "Finish a marathon". I registered for the Rock 'n Roll San Diego Marathon training program with the San Diego Track Club at the suggestion of a fellow gym-goer and experienced marathoner, Amy.

Training for that race was a life-changing experience. I completed distances I never thought I could run and I met inspiring people who continue to be my cheerleaders. Training and racing became an emotional experience. I cried when I saw my husband along the course. Then, while suffering unexpected abdominal cramps at mile 16, I remembered Amy's advice after a difficult training run, "Just listen to your body". I angrily walked the last ten wretched miles. I finally finished at just under six and a half hours and became a "marathoner".

2007 Rock n' Roll San Diego Marathon Finisher

It turns out, I was two weeks pregnant. I discovered this a month later before a 10 K on the Fourth of July. I remember whispering my discovery to my sleeping husband before dawn, but I cannot remember a single detail of that race.

Five years later, I donned my Wonder Woman garb and finished the same marathon over an hour faster. This year, I completed my third marathon and will be completing my sixteenth half marathon this Sunday. Every race I train for and finish changes me physically and mentally. My personal journey is different each time, but I still get teary-eyed at the start and finish lines of every race.

2012 Rock 'n Roll San Diego Marathon - Mile 18

Running Sucks

I dreaded the yearly jog-a-thons in elementary school and the weekly mile in junior high. In high school, I was one of probably five people who actually received a "B" in Physical Education because a mile and a half was excruciating for me to complete. I decided I was better suited for short(er) distance running and joined the track team.

I liked being a part of the track team. Oreo and chocolate milk picnics in the middle of the football field during a meet with my teammates was a lot more fun than a history lesson. I was not a track star by any means, but I fell in love with the anxiety at the starting line before the gun went off.

In college, I decided that the track meet picnic fare had finally caught up with me. So, I laced up and stepped out for a run. I ran for fifteen miserable minutes, but I was determined to become a "runner". Eventually, I was capable of running an enjoyable five miles and signed up for a 10 K. It was a St. Patrick's Day race with pizza and beer at the finish line, which was a major selling point for me. After the starting gun went off, I raced my heart out. If I could give myself a high-five, that is how I felt at the finish line of my first 10 K.