Look ma, I finished something

I ran my first half marathon yesterday. Though I trained six days each week for the past couple of months, nothing prepared me for what went down on the streets of Sacramento yesterday. Nothing.

First, let me preface this by saying I've aspired to run a half marathon since early 2010. Around that time, I started reading blogs from the likes of Skinny Runner and Healthy Tipping Point. Somewhere along the line, I idealized the race as some sort of magical experience. Not sure why, but I thought it would be this empowering go me come-to-Jesus moment.

It was not.

It more closely resembled 13.1 miles of mental battles and death. Yes, death. It was hard. Not hard like those stupid motivational posters that say "pain is temporary, finishing is forever".

It was hard like losing track of what freaking mile it was after mile 8.

It was hard like I can barely walk today.

It was hard like seeing the 11 mile mark and wondering how on earth I was going to make through another 2.1 miles.

It was hard like holding back tears of anxiety before the starting horn and tears of relief after crossing the finish line.

For other people out there like me, slightly overweight and overzealous mixed with a touch idealism, please realize that training for half marathon will likely be one of the hardest things you've ever attempted. Do not let anyone tell you otherwise.

But, if I can do it, you most certainly can too. It's completely within your reach if you fully commit and are willing to drastically rearrange your life and habits for a few months.

I think that's what I'm most proud of. For me, it's not really about crossing that finishing line. It's that I said I was going to do this amazing thing and I did. I wanted to quit so many times, even entertained the thought the night before the race.

But, I did it. I actually finished something, just for me. I think that made a training plan like this worth it.

I think.

Just Keep Running

Not long ago, I determined to make a third attempt at a half marathon. Like most things Michelle, I started out gung-ho, balls-to-the-wall, or whatever you want to call it. Training killed me the first couple of weeks, but I powered through even though I spent nearly every work day pinching myself to keep from falling asleep at my desk.

I'm finishing the fourth week now, officially at the half-way point.

Honestly, all I want to do is quit.

It takes a supreme act of will to change into my running garb and scoot out the door or into the gym six days every week. I've been convincing myself that I don't care about the race any more. That I don't like running at all. That I'm not meant to be a runner.

But, this sunset.

This sunset changed my mind.

If I hadn't committed myself to this training program and told everyone and their mother about my participation, I can guarantee that yesterday night would've found my ass firmly planted on the couch.

I'd be watching Bones or Law & Order: SVU or something equally terrifying, guaranteeing a difficult bedtime hours later. Or, I'd be reading beautiful blogs that make me feel like a waste of space on this planet. I might even be reading Rolling Stone while burning a healthy dinner.

I sure as shit wouldn't be outside, dragging my bones across the pavement. I wouldn't log 2 miles with excitement for the moment I finished my "out and back" and had the opportunity to turn around and actually run into the sunset.

I swear, every day teaches me something.

I'm losing focus on crossing the finish line, but I'm learning that the reward of actually completing something doesn't always come in the anticipated ways. Opening my eyes to actually see a beautiful sunset is an accomplishment in and of itself.

It's only a bonus that I happened to be running while my tired eyes feasted.

It's good to be a little overwhelmed

In college, I always bit off more than I could chew. My days flew by in a flurry of meetings and commitments and late-night cramming sessions. I volunteered, I interned, I worked, I worked out and I still managed to write.

At my first job, I worked for a software company in Africa and worked hard. I'm talking an early night ended at 7pm. I'm talking landing and launching multi-million dollar government projects.

Even though it seems like it, I'm not trying to brag. I'm just trying to remind myself that I'm capable of a lot.

You see, I've fallen into a complacency over the last year that is just not like me at all.

I go to work at 8am and I go home at 5pm. Sometimes I work out. Occasionally I cook a healthy meal. Often, I pop way too many Bud Lights and complain about my life situation. I'm not proud of it, but it's the truth.

I sit at home and feel unhappy about my career, weight and financial situation. I make half-hearted attempts to improve myself only to abandon them before I even start them.

This January ushered in a new era. It just happened to coincide with the New Year. I promise I didn't plan it that way.For the first time ever I didn't set a SINGLE resolution related to my weight or my career.

The only thing I promised myself was that I would pay off my 29.99 annual-percentage-rate $5,000 credit card.

Then, I decided to join a running group to train for a half marathon, training six days every week.

Then, my niece challenged me to a sugar fast.

I happened to get great assignments for my freelance magazine gig and then landed a monthly feature in another newspaper.

To top it off, I decided to move to a (cheaper) apartment one town over.

I'm a little overwhelmed. And tired, cranky and wishing I had a Pepsi like a mofo.

Yet, I feel like I'm finding myself again. I have this feeling that I'm on my way to something big, but I just have to stay the course.

I just have to show up and do the work of today without any regard for how I"m going to face tomorrow.

And somehow, miraculously, it's all going to come together.