Whew, lots of running milestones lately. Last Saturday (so, one week ago), I ran my first 10-miler! Double digits, baby! I was so pumped up about it all week the week before. I was running with two of my BRF's (best running friends) and a new running friend (so, 4 of us), and I just knew it would be awesome. All was going really well until I hit mile 8. It's as if a switch got flipped. My body just KNEW I had never gone that far before, and it was as if my legs turned to bricks. It was crazy. I seriously thought about sitting on the side of the road and letting someone come get me, but I just couldn't. Michelle was my hero, pushing and encouraging me the whole time. We joked that we couldn't just stop. We had to finish so we could get home, which is where the food was. When we rounded that last corner and saw Hwy 20, knowing our cars were parked just down the road, it gave us just enough of a boost to finish. It was an amazing feeling. I was so proud of myself for doing it and not dying, :)
This morning, I ran my first 10K race, I was thinking, this will be no big deal. I've run 10 miles and lived, so I can definitely handle 6.2! This race, however, was in a very hilly neighborhood. Seriously...I need to start training on more hilly routes. There were a few times (since I was alone...all my BRF's were running a 15k in Peachtree City) I honestly thought about quitting. I am so glad I didn't, though, because I did it. I finished, and I placed 2nd in my age group. Got a medal and everything. (My kids quickly confiscated it...my daughter is wearing it right now.)
I can't help but be proud of myself and think how far I've come. Just the other day I was looking at my running app and noticed those first runs...1 mile, 1.5 miles...I remember when those were my "long runs." Now, here I am, eyeing a half marathon in January and seriously knowing I can do it. Wow.
