Today I ran my very first 5K. My oldest daughter ran it too and we both had goals that we wanted to achieve. Hers was to finish in under 30 minutes, which meant she had to beat her previous 10 minute mile standard. I wanted to finish in under 1 hour. I am not a runner...I have never been a runner...but I have been really hard on myself lately and needed to accomplish something so that I could look at myself in the mirror and say "I am proud of you!" I knew from the beginning that I wasn't going to be able to run the whole 3.1 miles...I just wanted to set some kind of run/walk pace that would get me across the finish line in under 1 hour.
But a funny thing happened to me when I started the race. I started off at a slow jog and decided that I could make it to the coffee shop that is out of the park where the race started and down the street a ways...then I made it to the coffee shop. I was still feeling good, so I said that I would make it to the first water station...so I did. Then I said I would make it to the bridge...and I did. I just kept running...not a blistering pace by any means...but I kept going...and going...and going... The race had a turnaround point where the fastest runners would pass us on their way back to the finish line. I was watching for my daughter when the first few runners passed me on their way back. Sure enough, I saw her coming and we were able to high five and encourage each other. At that point I decided that I could make it to the turnaround before slowing to a walk. But when I made it to the turnaround and I still had gas in the tank I started to believe...to believe that I could run the entire race without having to walk. With each stride my brain started to believe what my body was telling it. That we could do it...that we were strong, and confident, and able to achieve this. So I kept running. When I entered the park where the finish line was I was almost in tears. Never had I felt this "at peace" in my own body. When I saw the finish line I picked up my pace. I passed a few runners and speeded up a bit more. And then I crossed that damn finish line with my arms raised in the air and even threw in a fist pump for good measure!! And to top it off, I got a medal. My daughter told me that she could see they were only going to give medals to a set number of runners and that they were down to only a few left when she saw me coming. She and her boyfriend were shouting encouragement at me to run...run faster...and it ended up that I got the 3rd to the last medal handed out! Close call...but the best thing of all was that when I looked up at the timer it read 48 minutes!! Holy crap!!! I crushed my goal of under one hour!!! I did cry then...with my daughter hugging me and telling me how proud she was of me, I just cried. When I could breath again, I asked her how she did and she was all smiles when she told me she finished in 29 minutes! A double victory!!
So now I am back at home...making a peach & blueberry crumble to take to our office picnic which is this afternoon. The race seems surreal now, looking back. But I have learned that I can push myself farther than I ever believed possible and that I have to trust my body to know more than my head!
No weight was lost on the scale this week. But so much was gained in life! I am proud of myself...proud that I tried...proud that I succeeded...and proud that I didn't let my head stop me from the best feeling I have felt in a long long time!
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