On Sunday, I ran the Royal Victoria Half Marathon in 2 hours, 15 minutes and 23 seconds!
To be perfectly honest, I think I hated almost every minute of the race. I pushed myself to run as fast as I could as long as I could and wanted to die before I crossed the finish line. I wanted to give up, I wanted to cry, I wanted to just go home, but I kept running.
When I crossed the finish line, I felt dazed and confused. I grabbed my finisher medal and walked past all the food, thinking I would vomit if I stopped to eat anything. I felt shaky and after a few minutes, I decided to go back for some food. After taking a few tentative bites, I realized that the food was agreeing with me and helping to put an end to the shakes.
I met up with my excited family (my kids were cheering for me and were so proud) and together we walked back to the hotel. I just wanted to get back and shower. I tried my hardest and didn't quit no matter how hard it was or terrible I felt.
Oddly enough, I want to train and do another one. I want to do it without feeling as terrible. I want to do it in a better time. I want to own it instead of it owning me. Does that make sense?
So I'm searching for the next half marathon to run, getting psyched up for the next training session and hoping to lose 20 pounds before I race again.
I'm proud of myself for that perserverance. I'm proud for finishing something I started. I'm proud that no matter how dificult it was, I was strong enough to overcome it.
Suicide Survivors Awareness Day
10 hours ago



