Wednesday, January 25, 2012

13.1

It's been nearly a year since I first started running. It hasn't been easy. It hasn't always been fun. But somehow over the hundreds of miles, it's become an undeniable part of me.

I leave on Friday to go to Miami where, God willing, I'll finish my first half marathon. Last February, I couldn't run for more than a minute. This month, I toughed out an 11-miler when it was 9 degrees outside and five days later did sprints when it was a down-right frigid -8. Sunday, winding though the streets of a new and strange city, I hope to cover 13.1 miles before I collapse at the finish.

There's a lot to say about the journey. And a lot of stories to share. (Like the time a well-meaning colleague said I was aiming for distances beyond my ability. Or the first time I got scared about having to run for 20 whole minutes -- an inconceivable amount of time when you've just started. There was my first five miler, which left me so giddy I called my mom from the running path, still panting so much her first question to me was "What's wrong!?" And of course the 15K where I spent MILES dead freakin' last in a field of 20,000+ runners, which also happened to be the time I realize you cannot run and cry at the same time -- especially when police are yelling out you because you're going too slowly. But those are stories for another time.)

For now, as I pack my bags, I want to say this: It wouldn't have been possible without my friends.

From my friend who came over to keep me company during my first Couch to 5K workout ...
To my pals who ran with me in races and stood on the sidelines in freezing, raining and burning hot weather to cheer me on...
To the peeps who've listened to me endlessly prattle on about nothing but ridiculous details ...
To training partners who've become like family ...
And to the people at the table during carboloading dinners...

My friend's 5-year-old sent me this letter for good luck.

Thank you. From the bottom of my heart.


I haven't said a lot on this blog lately, because sometimes it's hard to really process how much your life has changed when you're in the eye of the storm. But 30 pounds, three sports bras, two pairs of sneakers and one well-used stick of body glide later, I'm beginning to wrap my head around it.

So there you have it. As they say: Running changes everything.

Say a prayer for me on Sunday.

Love,
Noodles

P.S. If all goes according to plan, I'll be sharing details from the weekend on Twitter and under the #runnoodleesrun hashtag.

2 comments:

Aunt Erin said...

I'm SO proud of you, Noods. You are brave and bold and determined. You've got this half in the bag. You are an inspiration. And all of us who love you dearly will be with you in spirit on Sunday. Tear it up, girl.

The Modern Gal said...

I know what you mean about it being hard to process things when you're in the middle of them. You've already accomplished so much, and you're going to kick ass on Sunday. I wish I could be there, but obviously I'm cheering you on every step of the way from afar.