There was a time I couldn’t drive to Wal-Mart without having an episode. There was a time I couldn’t will myself out of bed. There was a time when a good day meant showering and eating. There was a time when I had to hurt myself to feel anything at all. I ran 26.2 fucking miles Saturday.
There were two turning points in my life. The first was Laura giving me an ultimatum: GET HELP. I can’t thank her enough for those words that day and all she’d done leading up to it. The second turning point was early 2017 after my first 8 mile run. I was training for my first half-marathon and she rode her bike alongside me. She was crying when I finished and said she wasn’t sure she would ever get me back. Well here I am, and I couldn’t have done it without her.
If you’re interested, here’s a recap of my race because I’m still pumped up.
I didn’t train for a specific time or the course, I just wanted to finish. However, my competitive juices were flowing in the final weeks and I set an aggressive goal of 4:30. For my first marathon on a VeRy HiLlY course. I ended up finishing in 5:30.
The first half was fine. I was cruising along when I decided to slow down because I was slightly faster than needed. I ran into the wall at mile 21, which was right before the course turned into Shelby Park. This was the hardest part. Not only because of the wall, but because there were no spectators in the park. I walked a majority of the way until exiting the park at about mile 23. At this point I had to think about each step in order to move at a trot. I walked up the remaining hills and emptied the tank by running the last two miles.
It was physically the hardest thing I’ve done and mentally exhausting. Everything hurt except my face. But as much as it sucked, after taking a few weeks off, I’ll start running again. And my plan is do do another marathon in the spring. This time in 4:30.