Might

For the past several weeks, I have been training for a half marathon that I plan to run in November. I feel that I should preface this post with an explanation of my relationship with running.
I played soccer all through middle school and high school, but I was only average; never great.
I ran as much as my position required of me, but never more. I'd say that the most I ever ran at once was probably 3-4 miles. I have never considered myself a runner. Once college came, I would run a few times a month, for no more than a couple of miles and only because I had probably eaten something I felt guilty about and wanted to "run it off".
Then I met David, my hubby and fitness role model, and my health and exercise regime totally changed. I started working out and eating MUCH better. We have become pescetarians and I have seen my weight go down and my health and energy go up.
Yet I have still resisted running. Which is no simple task when you're married to a running enthusiast like David, and that's putting it mildly. Running is more than important to David. It's his means of meditation and re-centering. It's helped him maintain his sanity during these early stages of grad school.
I see all of the great things running does for David, but for some reason, I have always felt that it couldn't or wouldn't be the same for me.
I have always regarded running as an exhausting, lonely sport. You run and run until your lungs feel like they're going to explode, and if they do, you'll die all by yourself because you're probably running alone on some long solitary road.
So a couple of months ago, David started talking about a marathon in November that he wants to train for. I told him he should sign up for it. I'm very supportive, just non-participatory.
Then I was visiting with some of my girlfriends and they mentioned that they are going to train for the half marathon of the same race. I started thinking about how much fun it would be to run with all of my friends, so on a crazy whim, I decided that I should train for and run the half marathon, too.
I started my training at the beginning of August. My training schedule is nice, it's slow and builds up very gradually. My first week went great . . . and then I got sick. I had to take a week off from running and I was worried that those seven days would deter me and I'd give up on my goal. But I didn't. I started back the next week and have kept going.
Last weekend, while David was slammed with schoolwork; I headed home for a weekend with my family. That Saturday I was scheduled to run my first six-mile run - pretty much the half-way point as far as mileage goes. I thought that I might blow it off in favor of spending time with my family, a legitimate excuse, but I pushed those thoughts aside and told my parents about my run and suggested that we all go to the track Saturday morning. I don't think anyone wanted to get up early on Saturday, but my family loves me, so they all got up and we headed to the track.
I was really nervous about my run. It would be the first time in my entire life that I had run six miles at once. I know some running buffs out there would probably scoff at my apprehension, but six miles is a big deal to me.
My mom and dad walked together while my older brother, Aron, ran and my little brother, Dawson, rode his scooter and jogged alongside us for a few seconds. I got ready to sink in to my six miles.
The run was really hard. It was a hot day, and the track is not exactly a stimulating place to run. Plus, the constant turning is not too friendly to the hip area.
I can't express how nice it was to have my family there. My dad would announce my current lap as I ran past him, and my mom and brothers had a water bottle waiting for me when I needed it.
I really wanted to quit at about mile four. But as soon as I thought about it, a quote from one of my favorite books/movies came to mind. I love the scene in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory where Charlie's pessimistic grandfather is telling him that no one is ever going to get to go into the chocolate factory and Charlie feels so defeated. As he is going to bed, he leans down to say goodnight to his grandmother and she whispers "Nothing's impossible, Charlie."
I don't know why that line means so much to me, but it became my mantra that day, and has been ever since. I looked at my little brother, watching me run and I wanted to show him and my family that I could do what I had set out to do. That it might be hard for me, but never impossible.
And I completed it. It was a horrible run, as far as my mile time goes, but I completed the run and reached the half-way mark of my training.
So how do I feel about running?
I am still very green on the running scene, so I'm not to the point yet where I crave the actual act of running, but my spirit has been uplifted, so I continue to run. Running has allowed me to understand that the only limits that exist in my life are the ones I place on myself. It's been a hard year, for a lot of people and it's nice to know that something like running can provide a little encouragement.
So here's to the second half of my training. I know if I stick to the program and look to people like my David and my family and friends for support, it's going to be a great run.

p.s. in case you can't tell, it's impossible for me to do a post without an accompanying photo.
Here's one from the vault.
Two of my favorite people in the world. This lady ran a half marathon with David just a few months after giving birth to her first child. Love you, Krista!
Thanks for the inspiration.