I love running. Call it "runner's high" or whatever you would like but I only get that feeling twice--when I'm running and when I'm helping the less fortunate. Personally, it's when I feel the most "spiritual" or in tune with myself and the world. I feel whole. It's also the one thing I do to alleviate my stress.
Training for and completing a half marathon went on my bucket list a couple of years ago but it wasn't until I went to Africa that I decided I wanted to do this goal in 2013. I met people who were so similar to me but wiser and more experienced with life. One of the gentlemen I met, who I would consider an awesome person, told me that a half marathon was just the beginning. Beginning of what, I wasn't sure. 2013 rolled in and since I don't believe in making resolutions (because I'm a believer of the trans-theoretical model of change) and running was on my list of things I'd like to do more of this year, I figured, why not try to complete a half marathon? Or maybe even two?
In January, just as I was about to start my half marathon training, I got into a car accident. Running and working out became no-no's because it could trigger my whiplash to hurt my back, particularly my lower back. The one thing I could do to de-stress myself, I wasn't allowed to do. It wasn't until early April when I got cleared to start running and working out. I had 7 weeks to train and train I did. I committed myself to making sure I followed the training schedule. Did I wanna quit along the way? Heck yes. Did I want to just stop? Oh yeah. But I didn't. Did I train and eat as healthy as I wanted to? Nope. But I did the best that I could.
Learning how to pace myself and last for 21.1km was a struggle like no other.
I am a 5km to 10km racer. It's what I do, it's what I breathe.
Race day, I knew I would at least last 16km but the other 5km, I wasn't too sure. At kilometer 5, I was still pacing myself to last while others were passing me, which was extremely discouraging, but I sticked to my pace. At kilometer 10, I could feel a blister beginning on my right foot. The one place I forgot to put anti-blister on. At kilometer 15, I hit my wall earlier and longer than expected. It lasted a total of 4 kilometers. 4 kilometers! At kilometer 18, I told my body that 3 kilometers was a long enough wall. I told my body that regardless of how it felt, when I hit kilometer 19, I was going to hit overdrive. Whether or not my body liked it. At kilometer 20, I started overtaking like I've never done so before. Before I knew it, I was done.
Something to take off my bucket list. Something to be proud of. Something I accomplished for me.
My legs are strong. My legs are powerful. Physically, my legs are one of my greatest assets. They may not be as thick or as thin as others but my legs pull and push weight like no other. My legs outrun any pain my body feels. My legs are powerful. My legs are strong. And they make me proud.