Life has changed quite a bit for me in the last 6 months or so. Just how much has changed was really brought home to me this week. Saturday, May 21st Mom and I walked in--and completed--the Ogden Half Marathon. I never would have thought that this would be possible a year ago, let alone something that I willingly signed up for and almost enjoyed. (Keep in mind that I've now had just shy of a week to recuperate. I was singing quite a different tune on the 21st.)
Training for the Half Marathon began back in January when I signed up for a program on campus called Women In Motion. Somehow I convinced Mom and a few other ladies to join me in this craziness, and I'm so very glad that they did. We began by walking just 20 minutes the first few weeks. I remember fighting to drag my sorry self out of bed to be to class at 8:00 on Saturday mornings thinking, "It's just 20 minutes. I'll climb back in bed as soon as I'm finished." And in the beginning, I did.
As the months progressed, the times and distances increased dramatically. I remember when we moved from walking on the indoor track to walking the lanes surrounding the football field. Lane 1 was still snow covered, and lane 2 wasn't much better. The weather finally started to warm up, and my resistance to early Saturday mornings thawed along with the ground.
Our first "big" walk happened on campus. Julie, our fearless leader, decided to march us from the gym, past the stadium, down the length of campus, three times around the duck pond, over to the alumni center, up the hill to circle the DEC parking lot, and finally back to the gym; a round trip lasting 6 or so miles, depending on how many times we made it around the parking lot. Did I mention that we walked UP the hill? I truly thought I would die before reaching to top. The hill had to be at least 5 1/2 of the 6-ish miles long. Well, okay. I suppose it was less than a quarter of a mile, but it felt pretty insurmountable even at the half way point. But, even though I was out of breath and having heart palpitations, we made it to the top.
The next walk that I thought might result in my early demise was a 10 mile jaunt. Mom and I were visiting family for Easter and I worried that social time might take priority over walking. Thankfully the fam is wonderfully supportive, and 5 of us walked two 5 mile chunks, each an adventure unto its self. The morning walk happened in the rain, and due to a technical failure (poor iPod!) we decided that we came up 1 mile short of the goal after driving our course. Rather than conceding defeat, Aunt convinced Mom to drive to the local high school track so that we could make up the deficit by walking 4 times around the football field.
The afternoon leg was a bit more painful. We started with two of the cousins, neither of whom had walked that morning. Technical trauma was averted since the course was driven before we started walking. We were all quite exhausted by the time the house--our end goal--was in view, but iPod let us know that we only had 300 meters left to meet our goal, so we continued past. I've always been someone who's looked for the path of least physical resistance, so I'm not sure how I ended up convincing everyone to finish those last 300 meters. I think that was my first clue of how much things had changed.
While the rest of the world was watching William and Kate's wedding, we hit our next milestone of walking 12 miles. We started in Uinta, trekked through areas that I didn't know existed, and hit the half way point at a church that had to be in a whole different time zone from where we started. It was a beautiful walk and everyone was super encouraging, but I've never been so anxious to see a blue bus shelter before. The hardest part came after the bus shelter as we walked up another seemingly gigantic hill. The theme of this walk was "just keep swimming," and repeating it over and over is the only thing that helped me make it up that hill. I learned that sometimes I just have to suck it up and power through the tough spot. I just knew that I couldn't slow down once I'd started or I'd never make it to the top. But I made it.
The Weekend finally arrived as we picked up our shirts, runner's packets, and bibs at the Fun and Fitness Expo the night of the 20th. The expo was my first glimpse into the race community, and I was surprised by how much I enjoyed what I saw. One of my favorite booths was selling headbands printed with assorted clever phrases. Mom found one that said "Slow is the new Fast," and I just about bought "Hell must be frozen over if I'm doing this." This was my second clue into how much had actually changed.
The morning of the 21st arrived, and I was once again dragging my backside out of bed to meet the race bus at 5:15 AM. Thank heavens Mom was driving because I wouldn't have made it on my own! We rode the bus up the canyon and joined the herd of folks waiting at the start line. I was amazed at how many of the participants I knew. I never would have guessed how many different worlds would intersect in the middle of nowhere Eden at the crack of dawn. After all of that, I shouldn't have been surprised when a piece of my past caught up with me.
I was speaking with one of the other WIM ladies when out of the corner of my eye I noticed someone who was once a very large part of my life walking up to Mom. I turned around to say hello and the look of shock I received was priceless and actually very vindicating. This may have been the first time someone was actually struck speechless at my presence. I hadn't realized just how far outside of my box I'd traveled until this moment. I'm the girl who still claims that I don't run unless something's chasing me, but there I was waiting to start walking 13.1 miles. A good friend stated it well when she said that I'm so far outside of my box that I've had to find a new one. I think I'm okay with the hermit crab-like metaphor in this case.
Walking the Half Marathon was, as cliche as it sounds, a bit of a life changing experience for me. I've always been someone who avoided pain if at all possible; I fight passing out if I'm even looking at a needle. But even with finishing the last 5 miles or so with bleeding blisters, I found myself more concerned about the blood staining my shoes or upsetting Mom than I was about the pain. Intellectual pursuits have always come pretty easily to me, but this was the first time I can truly say that I overcame and accomplished a physically daunting task.
The hardest part of the whole Half Marathon came in the last 2 miles. Mom and I were both exhausted, and I was at the point of tears. Thankfully there were spectators standing everywhere possible from the time we left the canyon almost to the finish line, and I refused to cry in front of people who were cheering us on. I was amazed at the number of runners who took a moment to call encouragement out to those of us walking the course. I expected people to be polite, but I was absolutely blown away that people--most of whom had run 13.1 more miles than I'd walked--took a moment to cheer us on our way.
Even with all of the encouragement, I was convinced that someone was moving the finish line back block by block. That or Grant truly is the longest street in the entire world. It was all we could do to put one foot in front of the other, but my spirits were lifted by a couple of runners singing "This is the street that never ends." Isn't it amazing that someone can retain their sense of humor even after running 25 1/2-ish miles? Mom kept repeating "We can do this," and I finally started to believe her once we hit the intersection of Grant and 24th.
Walking the block from 24th to 25th was a completely surrealistic experience. I couldn't believe that there were literally hundreds of people cheering on the runners, and apparently us too. I hadn't realized until about mile 7 that my name was printed on my race bib, and it was pretty strange to be cheered on by name. My grand pantheon of sports experiences totaled playing t-ball and softball as a kid, and 2 whole powder puff football games, so I'd never actually crossed a finish line until then, and I truly didn't know how to react. To top off the whole experience, all of the sudden someone was placing a medal around my neck.
I don't think that it truly hit me that I'd actually accomplished my goal of walking 13.1 miles until I hung my bib and medal in my bedroom. I still find myself wondering why someone's medal is hanging on my wall. It amazes me that I actually did it, but what's even more strange is that I'm already planning which race I'll sign up for next.
I started this post by titling it "A week of epiphanies," and I certainly experienced more than my fair share in connection with the Half Marathon, but I still have a few others to mention. First, I realized at a concert on Tuesday that I'd finally exorcized (and exercised) a few demons from my past while training for and completing the Half Marathon. I'd even allowed memories of one particularly pesky demon to ruin some of my favorite music. Thankfully the concert helped me finally let go and record new memories over the old. Best of all, the new memories are hopeful rather than melancholy.
The concert also helped me realize that through training for the Half Marathon I've learned that it's okay to reach out and grab the experiences that I want to have. I may have to put out my elbows a bit like I did at the concert, but if I want to stand in the same place that the 13 year old thinks she deserves more than I do, I have to take the step forward rather than wait for her to step back. And, I'm grateful for people who reach out to grab my arm, encouraging me to step forward.
I also learned that hills tend to be less daunting the more I walk them. Instead of being the girl at the end of the group wheezing and panting and whining my way to the top of the hill, I was Chatty Cathy at the front of the line, leading the way and pushing to go a bit farther and faster. Instead of constantly trying to catch up, someone asked me to slow down. I'm tempted to say that this particular hill was smaller than the others I'd climbed, but as I look back I realize that it was pretty dang huge. And I did it.
I wrote this to remind myself of all of the blessings and lessons and growth I've experienced in the last 6 months. I'm still trying to adjust to my new skin, but just like the medal hanging on my wall, I'm owning it a little bit more every day.
Roxie.
13 years ago
