Monday, March 4, 2013


The day after the race, I could hardly move.  My leg muscles (the above the knee in the front ones) hurt to the point I wasn't confident in their ability to support me.  A neighbor stopped by to borrow something and as I hobbled to get it for her, I explained, "I'm sorry.  I'm sore from running in a half-marathon yesterday."  

"Oh, did you not train?"

And my head hung in shame.  "Yes, I trained.  Just not enough.  And I'm not very good at running."

For most of that first week, I was very ashamed--of how sore I was, of how bad I felt when it was over.  I thought I would feel a huge sense of accomplishment, but mostly I felt how sore my muscles were and remembered how hard those last three miles were.

Tonight I went for my first post-race run.  I didn't know if I would keep running after this, but I feel like it would be a waste of a lot of time and energy (and money for cute shoes) to give it up now.  I was driving down into the Rose Bowl for the first time since the race.  Where I usually park just happened to be where the hardest part of the race for me began (the last two miles).  I didn't know how it would go after a two week sabbatical.  But it was amazing.  I only ran two miles, but I ran two miles.  No stops, no walking.  My leg didn't hurt.  I could breath.  That is huge.

I decided to join my friends in this race to raise money to free modern day slaves.  Somewhere along the way, I think I became a runner.  

I'll leave you (and this blog) with this.  Thank you, friends, for joining me on this journey.  In the words of Waterdeep, "It's a long hard road, with a good, good end."