Going the Extra (13.1) Miles

I've never been a runner.

A couple years ago, I'd rather have done ANY other form of exercise than run. Now, don't get me wrong: I am one of those crazies who enjoys exercise. I like being active and feeling healthy and strong. I like having the energy to keep up with my kids and feeling as though I am keeping my heart healthy so that I stick around for many, many decades to come with my little family.

But running? Nah. Not my thing.

Until August 2017. That was the month we brought our Bella home from China. What would follow were months of focused attention on her, ensuring she was securely attached and knew that we were her family. As a result, I had to find times to exercise that allowed her to remain in the care of her daddy. We just didn't feel comfortable leaving her with others until she solemnly knew she was a full-fledged member of the Lu Crew. ;)

Enter: running.

I started by just trying to log 2 to 2.5 miles, which increased to 3 miles, and then gradually, by the summer, transformed into 5 to 6 miles. Yet still, for me, the miles logged were just a means of keeping my mind and body healthy. They allowed for a little "me time" in the day to maintain my sanity and pound the pavement, all while taking in a good podcast (see, here's the other thing: that whole "I've never been a runner" thing? It was still true, even after months and months of running. I didn't want to actually think about the fact that I was running. So, I'd throw on a good podcast and let my mind wander as I soaked in the stories that played through my headphones, allowing me to forget that I was actually running).

I continued this odyssey, running 5 to 6 miles a few times a week. Some days, it was a breeze. Some days, every.single.step. took every.ounce.of.strength. I could muster. But, I persevered, initially with no real intention behind the running other than to keep my heart, brain, and body strong and healthy. And then, oh so slowly, a foreign idea started making it's way to my mind. At first, I shrugged it off: 

'It's the endorphins talking, Linds. You are not a runner. You don't even like running.' 

But the idea persisted. And began invading my thoughts more frequently. I began to think that maybe one day, perhaps one day in the distant future, I would do it: run a half-marathon. I mean, no time soon, of course: 

'I'm not ready for that! I don't even know how to start! I barely completed six miles today. How could I run what I just ran and then turn around and immediately run that exact route again...and still not be at 13.1 miles. Okay, maybe one day. But not today. And not tomorrow. And not next week nor next month. Maybe next year...'

And then, something stopped me in my tracks.

I was in the middle of reading Rachel Hollis' Girl, Wash Your Face. There was this one chapter that went a little something like this: Stop lying to yourself. Start conquering your life. Stop putting things off. Just START. What are you waiting for?!

From the book:

You don't have to know all the answers, you don't have to see the finish line to start the race. Just take one step and another and another. You're going to fail along the way. You're going to suck in the beginning. You're going to have to stumble for a bit before you get your bearings; before you learn to run. That's how you get from where you are to where you want to go!

Now, she applies this lesson to life in general. We need to stop getting in our own way. We need to stop putting things off. What are we waiting for. Let's go!

After I read that, I put down the book, picked up my phone, googled "Half marathons near Charlotte, North Carolina," and within a few days had identified and registered for my first half marathon. It was time to stop getting in my own way. But, there was one small problem: That half marathon I had registered for? 

It was less than five weeks away.

But I was determined. I found a 12-week training plan that aligned with the miles I'd already been logging and started halfway through it. I set my alarm for 5:15 am on Sunday mornings so I could get in my long training runs before church. I was fitted for new, actual real running shoes. I mapped out my long runs and then drove the route and dropped water bottles off for myself to drink along the way. I experimented with what meals provided me the most energy. I found new podcasts that would distract me during my runs. I borrowed my friend's GPS running watch and worked to find the pace that worked best for me. And I set one goal:

Run the whole race. Do not stop. Do not walk. Run, no matter how fast or slow or easy or hard or hilly or flat. Run without ceasing.

And then, race day came.

I was up early to ensure I consumed my pre-race drink and breakfast at just the right times. I had hydrated heavily all week and done my best to get good sleep. I had my race day outfit selected and laid out: nothing new or flashy or fancy; instead, it was something I had trained, and felt comfortable. I had my cordless headphones charged and my podcast ready to play. I drove in the darkness the 20 minutes to Charlotte, parked, pinned my race bib to my shirt, and then walked to the starting line, encouraging myself as it rapidly approached. Just as the race was beginning, I saw a familiar face - a friend - lined up and ready to run. Seeing her there calmed my nerves. It was time. 

13.1 or bust.

I said a prayer, turned on my podcast, and began, trying not to think about the distance that stood between me and the finish line. As I ran, I smiled and waved to the encouragers, water distributors, photographers, bystanders, police officers, and other runners. I was doing this thing! Miles 1, 2, and 3 were behind me! And then 4 and 5!

I reached Mile 6, right smack in the middle of the race, and I saw my people: my husband, my four children, all jumping up and down and waving, hoisting homemade posters over their heads, yelling out encouragement: 

"Go Mom!" "You can do it, Momma!" "When you get to the last mile, Mom, turn on the gas!" 

Their cheers and encouragement sustained me for Miles 7, 8, and 9. When the doubt would creep in, I just thought of my Crew, who were there with me. I let their cheers echo in my head. I kept on.

And then, Mile 10 hit. It was the hardest mile. This was the furthest I had ever run in my training, in my entire life - 10 miles - and here I was, running toward Mile 11. Uphill. Most of Mile 10 was uphill. My hip had gone numb, my ankle was stinging, my knee was aching. 

This was it. This was the point during the race at which my brain was screaming at me, 'Stop. Just walk. Just walk up this hill.'

But I had promised myself. 'Just keep going.' So, I started telling myself something I had often told myself during training: 'Your mind will give up long before your body ever will.' I repeated this mantra, over and over, as I steadily jogged up that hill. And that's when I saw them: My people, again. There they were. Standing at the top of that hill, willing me on. They cheered louder and harder, smiled bigger and prouder, and I realized:

I will keep going. I will conquer my goals. I will stop putting things off. BUT I will do that alongside my people. Not alone. Because I need them. I need their encouragement and love and support. I need their cheers and their high fives and their jumps and their yells and their signs.

And so, I kept running.

And I didn't stop.

I ran 13.1 miles without stopping.

I had done it. And I had run it at the fastest pace I'd ever run.

How? How had I run longer than I'd ever run at a faster pace than I'd ever run?

To me, the answer was clear: because I had my Lu Crew there, rooting me on. And there was no sweeter sight than sprinting to that Finish Line and seeing the people I love most in the world standing alongside it.

I've never been a runner. But sometimes, it's just about putting one foot in front of the other, while your people cheer you on. Thank you, Lu Crew. We did it. <3