First off...it's my 300th post. Congrats to me. I've become a stronger writer and think more than I used to. Thanks to Ruth for challenging me and thanks to all who read this. It means a lot to me as you journey with me becoming who God intends me to be.
Second...the race! I finished! That's what counts! I began the race near my pastor and his daughter (who's in my small group), but as we got nearer the start line, I took off. I just had to begin the running. Yes, I had to weave in and out of those darn walkers (seriously, how did they get in front of me at the start of the race) and groups of four or five who had to walk side by side, so the first mile took about 12 minutes. Not to mention that it took 28 minutes just to cross the start line (every mile marker involved a little math computation to figure out my correct time).
The first three or four miles were really good...great pace and I felt great. Sweating a lot, but AMAZING WEATHER! Cool, cloudy, little sprinkles here and there, with just a little bit of a breeze. Those miles were about 10-11 minutes. As I got nearer to the track, I knew I didn't have to stop at every water and Gatorade station. Looking back, I should have hit more. I thought I was going to die after 11 miles. I walked...stretched...ran...walked...ran...walked...the cycle continues. As I hit the 12 mile marker I had about 12 minutes to make it to my goal time that I wanted...needless to say, whether it was panic, my body, or whatever, I didn't make it. UGH! The final posters of 3/4 and 1/2 were honestly the worst things for me to see. I just felt that I couldn't go without passing out or throwing up, whichever came first. As I was walking, thanks be to my shirt, a guy yelled my name and I hunkered down and tried to finish in the strongest way I could muster. 2:32. I was shooting for 2:30...but I did cut off over 11 minutes from last year (which is almost a minute a mile).
In the days that followed, my left side of my body hurts more than the right, but I did Zumba tonight and felt a little better. I am proud that I finished. I am proud that I took a chance. I am proud of me regardless of not making my time. There is always next year (wait...did I just say that???).
Me being tough
After the race
What I gave my medal to...because there are kids who are fighting battles and are braver than I.