What follows is my journey, inception to completion, of running the Hospital Hill Half Marathon.

There are a few things I do NOT profess to be: A good cook, a good dancer, a good ice sculptor or a good magician. And certainly high on this list would also be, a good runner. I have never been able to run long distances well. Shoot, I can't even run short distances quickly. I remember I was on the track team in 8th or 9th grade and I competed in the the 400m race (one lap around the track) and came in last very nearly every single race. I'll admit, I only wanted to be on the track team so I could wear the cute warm ups to school and get to leave early for track meets.
Fast forward from 8th grade until about 4 months ago. I had run a couple 10k's (6.1 miles) and they were kind of fun and I didn't totally hate them. I found my endurance for running had greatly improved and wasn't nearly as hard, thanks to all the Bodystep classes I teach. Well, the next thing you know I find myself peer pressured into signing up for the Kansas City Half Marathon. At least I found a discount code online! Sweet! I type it in and it knocks $10 off the entry fee, so now I'm only invested $45, so if I back out, I'm out $10 less.
Then the training begins. First our runs are around 3-5 miles. No problem, I can handle these. I'm no Forrest Gump, but I can manage. We're supposed to run 3 times a week, but with all my other gym classes, I'm lucky to get in 2 a week and most weeks I only can get in the one "long run" on Saturday. I remember one especially brutal week, when we couldn't run on Saturday for some reason and we had to move our long run to Thursday night. I had already taught one bodystep class and one Pump class that day. So I rested for a few hours, took a 5 hour energy shot and joined up with the crew to run 8 or 9 miles that night. Man, that one was brutal!
Well, no surprise here, I end up have some injuries due to over training and over use on the tendons in my knees. But now, not only have I paid my $45 entry fee, but we've also booked a hotel at the Marriott where all my friends are staying, there's NO backing out now. Dr. Dan tells me I'm okay to run, just keep up on the Ibuprofen, ice and hey, here's an idea, REST a little bit!
Race morning:I pretty much don't sleep at all the night before. Maybe it's nerves, or the 2 diet cokes I drank at 10pm, or anxiety over the alarm clock not going off, who knows. It wasn't the bed though, the beds at the Marriott are a-maz-ing! 5:45 finally comes and I shut off the alarm before it even goes off. I head to the bathroom to eat and drink gross tasting stuff that you would only eat or drink if you are desperate for some sort of miracle performance enhancing help. I am desperate. Gu's and gels and drinks and energy bars: down the hatch. Glide body lubricant, applied liberally everywhere that touches anything. Sunscreen, check. Knee jumper brace, check. Last but not least I stuff that little tiny pocket in my running shorts full of Ibuprofen, caffeine jelly beans, another Gu gel and sticks of gum. I now look like I have a hip tumor.
Race Begins:Right before the race starts I jump in the line for the Johnny on the Spots and when it's finally my turn I make the HUGE mistake of looking into the toilet as I step in. WHY? WHY oh why did I do that? I'm now feeling nauseous as I make my way to the starting line, my hands heavily drenched in Purell.
We stand by the 2:00 pace team (this is my friends' goal time, it was my goal time too, long ago in the land of good knees, now my goal is simply: finish). It doesn't take long after I hear the gun shot to see the backsides of my running group getting farther and farther ahead of me. I knew it would be a lonely 13.1 miles, thankfully I had the Black Eyed Peas and the cast of Glee to keep me company. Oh, and some crazy old black guy with a cape that said "Trust Jesus!" on it.
I wont bore you with too many details from the grueling 13 miles, except to say it went a lot like this: Up a hill, down a hill. Up a hill, down a hill. It honestly got to the point where I dreaded the downhills more than the uphills because the downhills are MUCH more painful on my knees. I don't know how best to summarize the experience, because as I passed each mile marker I felt a great sense of accomplishment and euphoria, yet as I moved away from each marker and ran the next mile, I felt a great sense of dread and fear, wondering if I could honestly complete the race, or even the next mile.
When I finished the last hill and the finish line was finally in sight and I ran down the last leg looking for my friends and family that would surely be cheering me on, none were found. It was a crazy mad house. I crossed the finish line, got my medal and 10 pound box of "goodies" and then was spit out into a heaving throng of people. At this point I thought I just might pass out. Why in the world am I carrying around this huge box, I just ran 13 miles?!? Finally after 30 minutes of aimlessly wandering around, I borrowed some ladies cell phone and called Matt. They'd missed me crossing the finish line because, well, there were thousands of people everywhere and he had a 4 year old and a 3 year old to keep from getting kidnapped.
And today? My knees are killing me and not only my knees, but pretty much every inch of my body is sore. But ya know what? I did it. And I'm getting one of those stupid 13.1 stickers to put on my van!
On that note, does anyone want to run the Roots n' Blues half marathon with me in October? Training starts in a couple months! :)