Stepping Out

A few days ago I ran the half marathon in St. Louis. By itself that’s not a particularly noteworthy accomplishment. Thousands of people run. Many are older than me and many are quite a bit faster. Still, this was my first race and I feel a tremendous sense of accomplishment.

I was not prepared for how I would feel when the race was over. The emotion welled up and almost spilled out of me. The exhaustion, the exhilaration, the runner’s high—I’m not really sure what it was. I was also not prepared for the surge of competition I felt the last two miles. I was passing people like crazy—I wanted to finish and finish ahead of those in my immediate sight.

The whole experience was positive. The weather was fabulous—a glorious spring day with blue skies and light breezes. Tulips greeted us at almost every turn. St. Louis never looked so good.

It was thrilling to run by Busch Stadium, the Brewery, the Soulard area, St. Louis University, the pawn shops, and the homeless shelters. I ran by the building where my husband and I used to work (and where we met). I noticed that our former employer no longer occupied the building and realized that all the companies I have ever worked for no longer exist.

The crowd of runners and the spectators were inspiring and encouraging. The many volunteers who provided water and Gatorade were wonderful, although it was difficult for me to toss my drink cups on the street with all the others. I did it, but it just felt wrong. Many spectators held encouraging signs. Two of my favorites: “Your calves look sexy,” and, “If it were easy I would be doing it.”

My favorite part of the race occurred around mile six. My loving and supportive husband was there to snap my picture. And then he said,” I have a favor to ask.” It sounded like he wanted me to pick up his dry cleaning or perform some other domestic task, but he only wanted me to call him when I was close to the finish so that he could take another picture. For some reason I found it hilarious that he wanted to ask a favor while I was running.

Speaking of calling, my daughter sent me a text message two hours into the race to ask how it was. Since I had about four more miles to go at that point I returned her message telling her so. I had managed to run for nine miles without using my cell phone. If I do this again I’m not sure what my time goal will be. but I am certainly going to try to avoid texting and running.

While it was never a goal of mine to run a half marathon, I’m glad I did. I only signed up at the suggestion of a friend. I didn’t know how to say no. Peer pressure (and the fear of appearing old) is a powerful motivator. Once I signed up I had fierce regrets. I didn’t think that I could do it. I had all the standard excuses: I didn’t have time to train, I had too many responsibilities, my knees were too bad, etc. Somehow I did manage to train enough and, with the help of some additional strength training, my knees held up.

During the race I kept hearing echoes of advice that I would give to my children. “You can do it,” and “Take a risk. Try something different.” I realized that at some point I had stopped doing that. I had settled into a life of comfortable, no-fail options. It sounds trite, but I felt so alive to have stepped out of my world and into the world of a runner.

I learned a few other things as well. The strength training has helped my knees by strengthening the other muscles in my legs. In fact my knees feel better than they have in years. I also dropped a full pants size. Those two benefits alone could make this whole endeavor worthwhile.

The other benefit was all the attention. People were truly impressed that I did this and went out of their way to say so. My in-laws called. I received numerous messages from friends and other relatives. My aunt called after the race to see how I did. She is 65 and had to stop running two years ago—she told me how much she misses it. That alone makes me want to do it again. Just because I can.