After months of rationalizing and kabitzing instead of training, I finally did it.
I finished the Savannah Rock’n’Roll Half Marathon on Saturday – pounding out 13.1 miles of sheer determination.
I walked more than I ran and my time was horrible, but I crossed the finish line with a huge smile on my face and tears in my eyes. Because this victory? Was more meaningful than any race I’ve done to date. I’ve never before cried when crossing a finish line, but I wept freely this Saturday as I leaned forward to receive my finisher’s medal… freely, kids… free-ly.
Looking back, I realize that this was all about me clinging to the edge, trying not to back-slide any further into the low-self-esteem abyss… trying to gain some traction in a more positive direction.
I needed this victory… I needed to remind myself that no matter how rough things get, I’m still a pretty tough chick. And? I totally kick ass.
The fact that I wanted to quit numerous times before I even began (and every couple of miles during the race), but didn’t… well, that is a whole freaking lot of awesome right there.
My body still hurts… my shins are tight, my back aches, my quads are strained, etc… but you know what doesn’t hurt after that race on Saturday?
My heart… because I’m pretty sure I just fell back in love with myself.