I did it. And it was the worst best thing I’ve ever done.
I have started this post at least a dozen times, and am having a hard time putting into words what happened on Saturday.
I could tell you about waking up at 4:30am, and stressing out in a traffic jam on the way to the race.
I could tell you about the last minute visit to a Porta-Potty that had no toilet paper.
I could say that miles 1-5 were fun, and 5-8 were less fun, and 8-9 was really tough, but 9-10 was easier, and from 10 on, it was sheer agony.
I could talk about the heat, and the people passing out right and left.
I could give you the amazing finish times of all of my friends, who I am so ridiculously proud of.
I could report that I came in 8,449th out of the 22,749 finishers, and 3,987th out of the 14,505 women.
Or, perhaps my favorite tidbit of information: I could talk about the friend-who-will-never-be-named who is so hardcore, she PEED HER PANTS in the last mile so she wouldn’t have to stop.
But I think that this is my biggest take-away: what an enormous privilege. To have legs, to have a body that works, to have the opportunity to train for something far more physically taxing than I have ever attempted before. To have the ability to run.
Even in the heat. Even when it’s not fun. Even when I didn’t get the runner’s booty that I hoped for. I am ABLE to run. Not everyone is.
And this girl is getting busy getting grateful.
I am so glad I did it. I am so glad it’s over. And I guess I can’t deny it anymore: once one has run 13.1 miles, she is officially a “runner.”
More to come in the next few days…