Half Marathon Mamas

Yesterday morning I ran my second half marathon. It went exactly as I'd hoped it would, despite the fact that this past month wasn't ideal for my training schedule (a small price to pay...)  

I finished with about a 10 minute mile pace... a little bit slower than last year, which was okay. It was a different race. A different course, a TON more people, slower water stations, etc... 

I'm a different runner, too.

I've run in about 5 races in the past year. Mostly 10ks, an 8k, a 5k... 

I don't do it to win. 

I don't even think, too much, about obtaining a killer time or surpassing personal bests.  Don't get me wrong, improving always feels really good (and, overall, I've come so far from where I started, about 25 pounds overweight post-second baby, strapped to make it one lap around the track...)

But what feels better to me, when it's all said and done, what I remember the most is...

The morning gathering of runners. 

Runners that I know and love. 

Some of us first-time racers, some of us veteran athletes... marathoners, tri-athletes,  dare-devils.  Some of us somewhere in between. Each of us aware of the others' efforts, the early morning runs, the weekend escapes to the arboretum, the distances around the lake.  Each of us aware of what the others are capable of, and truly proud of them for their best.

(morning gathering of runners)

The goose bumps at the starting line, the thinking for a split second that anything is possible, even though it physically is not.  The surge of adrenaline at the finish when you thought everything that you had in you was already spent...

Crossing the finish line with your running partner. Someone who you've put on hundreds of miles with, sometimes through laughter and other times through tears. Someone who has both held you up AND held you back.  And you, her.  And there aren't any hard feelings. That's just the way it is.

(running partner)

The checking in afterwards, the re-gathering of your pack.  

The true pride and admiration that you feel for your sister and your sister-friend, who both beat (wait, KILLED!!!) their personal bests.  

(rockstar sister)

(kick ass sister-friend)

And the understanding that you feel toward the runners who had a tough go of it (because you've been there, too) but gave it their guts anyway, pushing to the end.  

Even when it hurt (or, because it hurt?) 

Even when it would have been easy or smart to just quit. 

Because running isn't easy. 

And, hell, it isn't smart.

 But, when you love it, sometimes you just can't stop. 

Which is probably why I'm already looking forward to my next race.