In the past, you would have NEVER found me running unless something was chasing me. I’m serious. I thought people who ran were nuts. Out of their gourds. Bonkers. Delusional. I mean, who would want to sweat and pant and hurt and make your heart pound? Especially when there’s pizza to be eaten, couches to melt into, and bad TV to watch. I mean, honestly … WHO!?
For one, my buddy Erik. He was a runner. An athlete. Out of his gourd. In great shape. Damn him and his charming smile, his impeccable health, and desire to run! Three years ago, we lost Erik. He was running a half marathon (that he’d run before), and had a heart attack at mile marker 13. Suddenly, something in me changed, and I went from this:
To this:
Finishing that race the next year was important. It was necessary. I needed it for closure and to attempt to move on. Well. Long story short, I broke my foot 3 months before the race and wound up unable to participate and finish it for Erik. I’d trained and everything. I’d lost 28 pounds. I was in great shape, I was enjoying running and working out (gasp!).
I broke my foot and fell off the wagon. Now, two and a half years later, I’m back on the wagon, and I’m training for the Nike Women’s Half Marathon in DC. I’ve been training for 4 months and haven’t been able to find my mojo. I’m in a routine, I’m doing it every day, just haven’t felt it yet … like I did almost 3 years ago when I was training for Erik’s race. Then. Suddenly. This happened:
I ran six miles last night. Six goddamn miles.
And then? I staggered into the parking lot, got into my car, and sobbed. A lot. Loudly. I sobbed and cried for a good twenty minutes before leaving the gym to go home. I sobbed because I miss Erik. I sobbed because I knew how proud he’d be of me (nothing was chasing me! I ran SIX MILES on my own accord … what?!). I sobbed because I was tired. I sobbed because I’ve never been prouder of myself. I sobbed because I surpassed my goal. I sobbed because I ran six miles. Me. The fat girl who only runs from things that chase her. I sobbed because I did it.
For the first time since I started training at the beginning of November, I feel like I can do it. I can finish this race. And I’ll finally do it for Erik and get my closure.
So, I’m excited. I’m really excited. I can’t wait to do it again. And maybe I’ll sob uncontrollably again. Who knows?
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