Oh yes, yes, I did – along with the other 16,000 runners that ran with ME (yes ME!) on that perfectly crisp NY day. I now have the bragging rights to say, very nonchalantly of course, “Oh, yea, I ran a half”.
To me, the half marathon was 80% mental and 20% physical, and my emotions ran the gamut, here’s my account:
Miles 1-3: I can’t believe I am doing this, I am so proud of myself, running 13.1 miles in Manhattan! I am running in Central Park with 16,000 other runners; yes I am a runner aren’t I? Hot damn, life is good! This park is gorgeous, I have to come back and explore it! It’s a must! I am so badass! I feel alive, core is strong, legs are sturdy…I’m King of the World!
Miles 4-6: Wow, I never knew Central Park was so fucking hilly, I ran here in September and it didn’t seem that bad. So glad that I don’t have the urge to “go”, what a mess that would be, Thank You God! I am still feeling pretty good, legs are holding up, I so got this. I mean, I trained and I trained hard, I so got this. Go me!
Miles 7-8: Are you fucking kidding me? I’m still in this damn park? I gotta get outta of this fucking PARK NOW! WHERE’S the turn off? WHERE IS THE DAMN FUCKING TURN-OFF? GET ME OUT OF HERE! Hmmmm… I am still felling good, thank God I trained, whoa… that gal looks like she’s about to collapse, lucky me!
Miles 9-10: I enter Broadway, the epicenter of midtown Manhattan, I start singing at the top of my lungs and off so key (sorry fellow runners!) just because I am so damn excited to be out of the park and in the middle of Manhattan: “New York, Concrete Jungle where dreams are made of let’s hear it for NY, big lights will inspire you”. Man, I am running in the middle of Broadway!! How cool is this?! This is AWESOME! Tears start streaming down my face of pure joy as I realize what I am accomplishing. Oh CRAP, what is that? A side stitch? It better not be a fricking side stitch; hhmmm my legs are getting a little tired but you trained for this Deanna, you can do this, screw your legs, you SO got this- you’re in the middle of Manhattan running!
Miles 11-13: Holy Fuck, I feel like I am going backwards, I need to drink some water NOW. Two more miles, is that correct? Are they serious? I have to do another half in four weeks? Why the hell am I doing this? Am I on crack? Two more half’s, a 24 hour relay, and like eight 5k’s are in my future, will I be able to walk again? Holy shit – did you see that guy, his nipples are bleeding; I hope to high heaven that my nipples are okay, please God no bleeding nipples!
Finish Line: I did it! I did it! I did it!! Tears, exhaustion and so proud that I ran 13.1 miles, finish time: 2:19.
I never in my life thought I’d run a half marathon – in my mind – the half marathon were for the thin, the strong, ummm, my husband. I was all about the 5k’s – they were a feat, and the 10k’s were the Mecca races to me. So accomplishing this is like Tiger Woods winning the Masters – at the Top of his Game – prior to him screwing hundreds of women ‘cause this year, even if he does win, it loses something, right?