She Runs Like A Girl...

Today I saw a grown woman duck into shrubs at a golf course to pee.  I saw a woman pose with Kurt Bestor and then say "I guess I can go home now."  I saw people cheering each other as they were passed... in short, today was the Wasatch Women's "Love Your Body" 6K/10K at Thanksgiving Pointe.

Now, first of all... for all the blogging in the world I do about it, I haven't actually run in a while.  In fact, last Sunday I hit 3.1 miles (5K) and thought "that's it.  I can do no more.  I will just walk the last K next week."  See?  In Georgia I was on this great running plan.  I even had running (or at least "sprinting days" friends), I had Matt to hold me accountable, and I had a training plan up on the fridge I checked off when I did something... but then I moved.  To Tennessee.  And I didn't like running.  I no longer lived in a great place for it (I ran past CORN, which is the ultimate in "SERIOUSLY??" because you feel like you're going nowhere).  And apart from that hill running I would do at Dunbar Caves, I made a pretty poor showing of it.  And then when I moved to Utah... well, the altitude got me.  And lack of motivation.  And the 10 lbs I gained "pre-deployment" that were weighing me down.

Sufficient to say... I didn't feel ready for this race.  I really and truly was prepared to walk for what would probably turn into the last mile , or I was prepared to die.  Either one, actually.  And, to top it off, registration closed before my sister-in-law (who told me about the race) could register, so it was just ANOTHER in a long list of things I was doing alone.  All alone.  With no husband to support me like he did at the last 5K.  No parents to take my picture and say "look what you did!"  and no friendly face to hold my keys while I ran.

So I decided not to run.  I mean, it's Friday night, I'm all alone reading "The Hunger Games" (teriffic, BTW), and I just can't do it anymore. I can't show up to one more event without a husband or people.  And then I show up and - what - fail?  Not even be able to run the whole way while pregnant women pushing double strollers up hill are passing me?  No thanks.

But I went anyway.  Maybe it was my sense of pride.  Maybe it was not wanting to have to tell Matt that I didn't do it.  Maybe it was that I already had the shirt and wanted to wear it without questions (it's a surprisingly cute race shirt).  But Saturday morning came, the dog was walked, the moisture-wicking shirt donned, and I left for Thanksgiving Pointe.

I took pictures of myself, because I NEED no other people to take pictures of me.

I ran past THIS:

AND This:

And This:

And walked for 30 seconds (that's all I'd give myself) somewhere between the bottom and the top of this picture:

And in the end... I was elated.  In fact, I know I show a awfully lot of ugly pictures of me on this blog, but here's another.  I did not die.  Minus the 30 seconds of horrifying hill, I didn't even walk.  (In fact, my race time was about 38 minutes, which is amazing for me to run almost 4 miles.) I was helpful to my other runners (encouraging, insightful, knowledgeable because I have my husband's GPS watch which is magic).  And, yes, I did get passed by that pregnant woman pushing the double stroller up a hill.  But I carried on anyway.  I can do hard things.  All by myself if I have to.  Because that is exactly how awesome I am.