I am only half crazy. That is what I told myself when I signed up for my first half marathon in 2014. I didn’t identify as a “runner” back then. In fact, I detested running in high school.
I remember being at the back of the track, huffing and puffing with a stabbing pain in my side. I struggled with an extra ten to fifteen pounds in high school, so I preferred doing workout videos with Jane Fonda in the privacy of my living room. Unfortunately, to graduate in 1987 I had to take a physical education class which included running, from time-to-time.
After having my second child, in 2003, I let the demands of working motherhood take priority over taking care of myself. The ‘baby’ weight I gained during pregnancy snowballed over the years until I found myself approaching 200 pounds in January 2013. I decided to hire a personal trainer after making a new year’s resolution and she helped me lose over sixty pounds! As a lighter, healthier, version of myself I completed a 5K and 10K. A half marathon seemed like the next natural step right? Sort of like buying a home and having children after you get married.
I admit, I felt nauseous when I pressed the 13.1 button to sign up for the Veteran’s Day Half Marathon, in Santa Barbara. The feeling was mixed with doubt and excitement. “This is twice as long as any distance you’ve run in the past, Samantha. What are you thinking?” I was doing it more to prove to myself that I could accomplish anything I set my mind to. If I could finally lose the weight and get healthy in my forties, I can do this!
My only goal was to cross the finish line. Whether I ran, walked or crawled over it, I was determined to finish! The crawling wasn’t really an option, it only served as a plan B, so I would actually sign up for the race.
Training for a half marathon set me on a path to overcome my own resistance, physically and mentally. It took several failed attempts at running my first double digit run, before I actually completed ten miles! Often, I would stop right before I hit my mileage goals, which made the satisfaction sweeter the first time I completed ten miles.
I was elated!
The harder the goal, the more satisfaction I got when I reached it. Training taught me a lot about discipline and drew on the natural, tenacious aspects of my personality. I confess, on more than one occasion I thought about quitting all together. If I hadn’t paid $100 to sign up, I may have blown it off! My family was coming to watch me. I couldn’t back out now. Besides, I had already mapped out my route to the pancakes after the race.
Today I am so grateful I decided to press forward with my intention to run a half marathon. Despite acute hip and foot pain at mile eight I prevailed. I made my mind up to let the desire to conquer my goal be greater than the desire to quit. I focused on the support of the Veterans lining the last mile waving US flags and cheering us on, rather than the pain I was experiencing.
“I’m so close, I can’t stop now!” I could see the Pacific Ocean and hear the crowds clapping which distracted me from the pain my body was in. Seeing people in wheelchairs coming out to support the runners was incredibly humbling. “Suck it up Samantha, you can do this!”
Crossing the finish line on November 11, 2014, was one of the most powerful emotional experiences of my life. I had my head down—I’d later learn that this is not proper running form—focused on getting to the finish line. I could collapse AFTER I stepped over the vibrant yellow finish line if I wanted to.
The minute I saw my family my eyes filled up with tears. I heard stories about runners getting emotional at the completion, but didn’t think that would be me. I was wrong. I was choking back tears when my youngest son lurched onto the finish line to hug me, tell me how proud he was of me and help me find a place to sit down. I could feel my chin quiver as I did my best to avoid the ugly cry. I was so happy it was over, yet feeling pain in my hips and feet. It was one of the most cathartic moments, difficult to put into words. We celebrated at our favorite Italian restaurant that night after a nap and an epsom salt bath.
Running is a lot like childbirth, you forget about the pain you endure and then you sign up for another. I would sign up for the full marathon the following year. My friends and family thought I was on drugs! Frankly, I thought I might not have the stamina to do this, but I had to try. I wanted to push my own limits.
Fast forward to three years later.
I am training for my third marathon, this March, in Los Angeles. I run because I love the feeling of empowerment when I crush a new pace. I run because I have discovered a whole new tribe of friends. I run because it helps me maintain my weight loss. I run because it keeps me on track with my nutrition. I run because it keeps me sane and it clears my mind. I run because it gives me a sense of accomplishment. I run to slay my internal saboteur.
Running is a form of meditation for me. Running in nature heals me. Watching the sunrise over the mountains during a 5am run is one of my great pleasures in life. Running is a gift. I run because I can!
I keep running because it makes me a better writer.
If I am working on a blog post, or on my book and hit writer’s block, there is no better remedy than a run. After a mile or two, the words start flowing together into sentences in my mind. I lose track of miles and time. I love solo runs because it provides an opportunity to explore my own thoughts deeply. A group run provides an opportunity to uncover new ideas through conversations with friends. Both are magical in their own way.
Now, if there was only a way for my Garmin Running Watch to download all my thoughts into a word document I would be ecstatic!
#WhyWeRunGMP
—Photo Credit: Flickr/Aaron
Great job Samantha! So proud of your writing and running journey!
Thank you so much Melissa! You know who I am calling when I finish my book!!
I certainly do. I would be honored to edit it for you:)