One day I went running

(Hey everyone! My name is Rachel and normally I blog over here. Maggie asked me to “tell about a really good/fun/fantastic/life changing day”. This is my attempt at that)

One day i went running.

It was August 27th. I know, I know, it was forever ago.
The day was cloudy and misty in San Leandro. Not exactly the conditions I had been anticipating. I was wearing a tank top and shorts. Lucky me. Thankfully I was excited because I was about to run my first half marathon. But I was nervous because I was about to run my first half marathon. What if I fainted? Or threw up? Or got eaten by a shark? Or had a foot cramp? The possibilities of tragedy were endless.

Thankfully the closer I got to the race the calmer I became. By the time the countdown for the start arrived I was geared up. I was freezing but geared up. Sometimes I wish I had brought my camera with me on the actual race (like Zooey Deschanel in Yes Man) so I could remember better, but I think I remember it pretty well.

I remember the unexpected smell of black licorice as I traversed the trail. I remember the eternally long bridge with a bicyclist slowly cycling behind me because it was too narrow for him to pass. I remember the girl in the green tutu. I remember the soggy marshes. I remember when the first runner passed me on his way back (I was on mile 4 while he was on mile 9). I remember trying to drink at the halfway station and getting most of the water down my front because my mouth didn’t want to do anything but breathe. I remember hesitating to pass people after I had been tailing them for a while. Were they getting slower or was i getting faster? I still don’t know.


It was exciting. It was exhilarating. It was exhausting. By mile 11 all I wanted was to be done. So I started speeding up. I passed the girl I had been tailing for the last 4 miles. I remember thinking “the faster you go the faster you’re done” and “finish strong”. So the closer I got the faster I ran. Until I was at the park where we had first started; and then I started sprinting. As I closed in on the crowd they roared with applause and cheers by the sheer awesomeness of the feat I had just accomplished (or because they cheered and applauded everyone who finished. You decide). As I crossed the finish line I quickly slowed to a stop. A stranger took the timing device off my ankle and my parents ran to greet me with hugs. I was sweaty and dirty and my legs felt like jello. But I was finished. I had done what I had set out to do.

And it wasn’t 100 miles. Or 50. Or even 26.2. But it was an accomplishment. And I’ll never forget it.