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13.1


I realized today while at the gym working off my hang over (yes, you CAN sweat out the alcohol) that it's been exactly one week since I ran my first half marathon.
One week and another 13 miles.
The marathon was probably one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life. About 2 miles into it the adrenaline began to wear off and it began to dawn on me I had 11 more miles to go. Eleven. More. Miles. The thought pounded into my brain like my feet on the Cape Cod concrete and suddenly my calves didn't feel quite so strong, my back didn't keep quite so straight, and my music didn't seem to carry the right beat. My breathing got a little louder, a little more stressed. And all the people around me began to look more muscular. They would finish. I didn't stand a chance. I wanted to give up, make the right and head down the 10k track instead of the left to the half marathon. Maybe I would tell my mom I actually did the half marathon, she wouldn't know the difference, she was home - probably in bed. Maybe I could fake an injury? It wouldn't be so fake...I do have shin splints. And the more I thought about it, the more my knees ached and better the idea seemed. I just wasn't cut out to run marathons, even half marathons.
And then I looked left.
Sweat beaded down her face and onto her grey already soaked t-shirt - it had been light grey when we started. Her steady gait matched that of probably a rap or hip hop song and she had the most determined look spread across her face. Her eyebrows furrowed and her lips tightened. 
She caught my glance and matched my stare. The most thrilled smile I had ever seen spread across her face - she had never looked so proud of me. She didn't even have to say anything as she then reached out and gave my back a small pat.
At that moment, I saw everything I needed to keep going. 
I could not have done it without her, I would have given up a long before the finish line and even though my thighs burned and my back tightened with every step, each time I wanted to stop all I had to do was look over and there she was, right beside me, feeling every bit of pain I was. I pitied every other person on the road that day, because they did not have the person I had running next to them. They did not have the encouraging smile and everything attached to it.
I may not have been the prettiest crossing the finish line, and I certainly wasn't the fastest. But that day, I was without a doubt the luckiest.

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