let’s finish this together
Running is for people who are not me. Fit people. I like to run to my fridge.
Exactly 2 months ago, after years of little to no exercise, I challenged myself to run a mile. It took me almost 18 minutes, so I am not sure you could really call it running. Bouncing perhaps? In reference to a shirt my husband bought me years ago… slower than a herd of turtles stampeding through peanut butter. Whatever it was, I didn’t walk and sucked it up for the entire mile, so it was a major victory in my book.
I signed up for a local 5k to raise money for diagnostic technology for breast cancer.
I giggled a little to myself when I thought about running the whole thing. Ha! Not a chance. But then I started pushing. What if I could just run a mile without dying at a pace of a slightly faster turtle? And then one day I did that. So what if I could run 2 miles? I almost cried when I did for the first time in 22 minutes and 44 seconds.
Ok fine, let’s do this. I’m going to run the whole way. In less than 30 minutes maybe? (For those of you like me that are not math whizzes… that’s less than 10 minutes a mile. My first one took me almost EIGHTEEN.) But then one day I ran 3 miles. Alright, self… challenge. accepted.
I wish I could say the rest was a breeze. But the last couple of weeks before the race seemed to be the hardest. I had to walk more and more. My calves throbbed. My thighs ached. I had a completely unrelated fight with anxiety the night before. All the negative thoughts. What the heck was I thinking? I have only run 3 miles without walking once… how can I expect myself to run the whole way, much less in 30 minutes? I began to try to make a deal with myself. It would be ok if I walked as long as I ran fast in between to try to get closer to my time goal. But I knew I couldn’t. I had to stay committed, even if it meant trying and failing. No compromises.
Race day. I held back tears watching brave survivors and their families stroll by, some already victorious in their journeys and others showing up to their battles with valor, day after day. These women inspired me so much. If they can stand strong and not give up hope, surely I can make it 3 measly miles.
And so, it began. The first couple were honestly not that bad. That last one? Rough. Can I just say, and anyone who participated knows EXACTLY what I’m talking about… could we not have planned those hills a little earlier? You’re almost there!!! … Just kidding. Here’s the steepest hill in the city. Enjoy!
Maybe I’m being a little dramatic. But at that point, it seriously felt comparable to Everest. I almost gave in. I almost stopped. I’m so glad I didn’t. The finish line was visible for the last stretch. I’m so thankful for the girl who looked over, grinned, and said, “Let’s finish this together.” I think she might have been Usain Bolt’s cousin. I couldn’t keep up, but she still helped me shave seconds off my overall time. Isn’t it amazing the difference we can make for someone else with just a few simple words? You’re not alone. I’m with you. You’ve got this.
Let’s. finish. this. together.
We high fived at the finish line. I couldn’t even tell you what she looked like. I was seeing stars and gasping for air. Ultra-deep breaths. (Note: This is not an opportune time to use a porta potty, just in case you were wondering.)
I missed it by 7 seconds. I failed.
But it’s obvious right? That just because I didn’t reach my goal, I didn’t really fail. I actually RAN a 5k. And I did it in just over 30 minutes, which was by far my best pace ever. And even better? I set my pace well and ran each mile a little faster than the last (including the final mountain). [9’38” – 9’35” – 9’34”]
I’m counting it as a win. The words of encouragement I received along the way were such a huge part of my journey. They seem little in the moment, but mean so much more than we could imagine.
Let’s finish this together.
Originally shared October 21, 2019.
