In December of 2008, still struggling over an ugly breakup and uncertain of my future, I wrote a list of goals. Things that I thought a single, fabulous person – the person I wanted to be – would do. Somewhere on the list was
- run a half marathon
When I wrote those words I had no idea how long a half marathon was. For all I knew, it could have been 4 miles, or 20. (It’s 13.1.) I just knew I had to do it. I started running. It was cold in the midwest and the snow made for slow going. I remember a 3-ish mile run early in February when my chilly, tired legs seemed heavier with each step. I found myself repeating, over and over, “If you can run 3.4 miles, you can do anything.”
That may or may not be true, but it got me through the run. And through many more runs after that. By the time I ran my first half marathon in spring of 2009, I had fallen in love.
Running makes me feel good about myself; makes me feel successful whether I’m fast or slow. Running gets me outside and lets me take in the beauty of the world around me. Running makes my dog tired and happy. Running doesn’t require fancy equipment or expensive gear, just a good pair of shoes (although a cute running skirt never hurts.)
I’m always happier after a run.