If this race were easy, it would be your mom.
You'll never beat Paul Ryan's time.
Any idiot can run. It takes a special kind of idiot to run 26.2 miles.
Favorite part:
Running through the St. Jude hospital campus.
Oh my God. My throat hurt from trying not to cry. There were people on either side of the streets all the way through. Some had pictures of children who were patients. They waved signs, rang bells, cheered. What hit me about it was that that place is a way of life for so many people and children. A reality. I'm so glad it's there and that any kid who needs it can be treated regardless of their family's means. I definitely want to run the race again next year and raise money as a St. Jude's Hero. People who were part of the race raised over $5 million. Amazing.
Second favorite part: a group of little girls with Downe Syndrome, all wearing matching pink fleeces, cheering, smiling, having fun being part of the race.
Third favorite part: running down Beale Street at the beginning of the race. Tons of people lined both sides. The atmosphere was celebratory and festive.
Fourth favorite part: Gumby/Sumo wrestler.
Fifth favorite part: incredible view of the Mississippi River.
Least favorite part: the whole 2nd half of the race. Seriously, all the good stuff is at the beginning. The rest was comparatively dull. I did get some good refreshment at the end.
The whole thing was made special by having my sister there with me. We went to a pizza place for dinner just because it was close to where the expo was, but the pizza was amazing. Roasted garlic, fresh basil, tomato, banana peppers, and goat cheese. Post race, we tried to go to the Melting Pot but it wasn't open yet. We had to go to Joe's Crab Shack instead. We were pretty ok with that. We got some specially personalized bibs.
My plan for this race was to take it easy and have fun. But I didn't. I ran it in 4:41, which is slowish for me, but not bad considering it was number 3 in a month. But it wasn't easy. It was pretty tough. I thought, though, while I was running, that it is not about the medal or trying to impress people or needing people to think I'm something. It's not. It's about doing something hard. Even when it hurts. Even when it hurts, God sometimes it hurts, but I know, I know, somewhere very solid, that if I just keep putting one foot in front of the other, that I will get through. I'll finish, I'll cross the line.
I'm bad about needing to know things. It's true. I would like to know some things for sure. And I like knowing I can do this thing and that I can do it a lot. Because at the beginning of every race, (even for the days leading up to it), I'm not sure I can do it. And for the first 5 miles, the first 10 miles, I'm still not sure. But at mile 18, 19, 20, 22, 24, when I'm hurting and my legs and feet are screaming, then I know. It's a really good kind of knowing. That's what keeps me wanting to do it again and again, I think. The little bit of fear, the mountain I have to climb, and the knowing in the midst of the pain. It's a tenuous--yet firm--kind of solidity.
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