Yesterday I finished my first Half-Marathon. I hadn't originally planned on running my first half on the day of my birthday. It wasn't until I noticed on Active.com that Compete Green was planning the Ojai to Ocean Marathon and Half-Marathon in my hometown. After looking at a map of the course, I was even more intrigued. For the half, it started off in Ojai and weaved its way down the bike path, to Ventura and crossed through the promenade. I'd been running the promenade a few times a week for the past few months. The course was all downhill, smooth, and considered one of the best Boston-qualifiers out there. ....Not that I am anywhere near qualifying right now, but more speaking to how easy it is. AKA...perfect for my first half. Also intriguing? It was scheduled for the day of my twenty-fourth birthday. Beam me up, Scotty!

The weeks and days leading up to my race made me feel like I had developed OCD primarily for running. I made sure to stay on my running schedule obsessively, took my rest days when I needed them, backed off a little when I felt like I was over-training, and ate a clean diet to support my body through all the madness. I'd heard horror stories from my fellow runners about their first half-marathons-- pulled muscles, destroyed knees, and injuries that left them cross-training for months. Two of my best friends, Michelle and Bobby, ran their first marathon in Big Sur two months ago. At the beginning of the year, the three of us signed up for the Ojai to Ocean half together. Only Bobby was feeling good enough to be able to run with me, Michelle was still battling a stubborn knee injury (but she still drove us and hid in the bushes taking pictures! What a champ!). So...needless to say, my fear of injury and not being able to run for a while was at the top of my list. Did I think I could run the distance? Of course. Did I know how my body would handle it after? No idea.

Nobody ever really knows how their body will react during a run until they actually start. It's just one of those things. Either your body will feel great, or it wont. I ran the Merrell Down & Dirty Mud Run two months ago and felt like complete shit the morning of the race. My stomach hurt the entire run, and I ended up finishing a 5K in around 48 minutes. Granted, there were twelve lame obstacles, a massive hill to climb, and two mud pits (one of which earned me the glorious picture I use for the header of this blog), I was still more than horrified by how long it took me to just run three-point-freaking-one miles. It was an off day. And I had to remind myself after that it's part of the journey to have your ups and downs.

I was relieved that my lack of sleep didn't make me feel miserable for this race. Planning my first half-marathon on my birthday was an awesome idea, although, I didn't anticipate the number of middle of the night birthday texts I'd receive. There was an hour-long span around 12:30 AM that I received around 5 texts from different people. It was a bittersweet feeling, fighting the feelings of frustration because I wanted to sleep and excitement about my sudden surge of love from my friends. Because my cell phone is also my alarm clock, I couldn't exactly turn it off to stop it from buzzing all night. I was also too sleepy to realize that putting it on silent would still allow the alarm to ring. I also set a million alarms with various levels of threat to entice me to wake up :)




Right as I finally seemed to fall asleep, my alarm went off for reals (4:05 AM...ugh) and I went right into auto-pilot. Bobby showed up at my doorstep first, sleepy-eyed and ready for a cup of coffee. Michelle showed up a few minutes later, with a Trader Joe's canvas bag (because she knows I have an obsession with TJ's bags) filled with my favorite snacks (Chili Covered Mangoes and Chocolate Covered Espresso Beans) and a gift wrapped in owl wrapping paper (I was in love with it before I even knew what it was). She had bought me a race medal/ race bib holder. Best running gift ever!

Bobby ran the entire race barefoot. I repeat, Bobby ran the entire race barefoot. Not minimalist. Not in sandals. Bare feet to the pavement, yo. He warned me before we started that "it might start to get a little annoying" and at first I thought he meant the running barefoot part. Then he added, "people always say things. They can't help it." It was then I realized that he meant the people making comments about his  choice of foregoing shoes.

Soon enough, the comments started rolling in. "Hey! Barefoot man!" "Did you forget your shoes at home?" "Oh my god, he is barefoot, look!" My favorite, by far, was "If God wanted us to be barefoot, he wouldn't have invented Nike's!" ....there were so many come-back's I thought of to that comment, I couldn't even decide which to throw back before the guy was too far away to hear me.

I felt solid for the first eight miles of the race. Around mile 9 my hips started to feel a little tight. I felt like the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz, only that I had lost my can and was nearing the squeaky, painful, oh my god, oil me please! moment. At different moments my knee started to burn, and the arches of my feet started to feel a strange sort of pinching sensation. I reminded myself that this was only feedback information from my body and as long as something wasn't totally unbearable, I could keep going. At mile 12, I started feeling anxious for the end to near. My pace up until this point had been extremely consistent (9:54 per mile) and although I gave up the sub-2 hour goal (which was in all honesty a little extreme for where I was at), I was still running much faster than anticipated.

At one point, Bobby turned to me and said, "Have you been running a lot?"
I didn't know exactly how to respond. "Yeah, what makes you say that?"
"Your pace," He said, jumping over a rocky-patch of asphalt. "You're way faster and more consistent than you were the last time I ran with you."
I thought about it, and the last time I ran with him and Michelle was over two months ago. Both of them had been healing since their marathon, so I'd been training the majority of the time by myself or with other people.

It was at that moment I realized how much improvement I had made in the last six months, and especially in the last two. I went from only being able to run a few miles (roughly) in a row, to a solid 13.1 miles with a faster pace than I had ran in my first 5K of the year. I remembered complaining to them about a four-miler we did once. I remembered needing to stop during another 5 miler, and my knee hurting for a few days after. The last few months I've noticed myself get more and more personally involved in running. It wasn't just something my two best friends dragged me out of bed every morning for. It became something that I dragged myself out of bed every morning for.

I didn't stop once during my race. I didn't expect that. I promised myself, that if I wanted to walk, I'd walk. I wasn't about to risk injury for the hopes of getting a certain time. But I felt good. Even when Bobby gave me the "get out of jail free" card (i.e. "We can walk if you get tired"), I still kept running. I figured, there are so many people who don't have the opportunity to run. I have trained for this. I'm not walking. 

I had a long list of reasons why I wouldn't let myself walk. When my body started hurting pretty bad the last mile, I thought about Micah True. I never had the chance to meet him in person, but I met many of the people who loved him the most. The impact this man had on the running community is immense. One of the most important things I've ever learned in running came from him: Just enjoy yourself, enjoy the scenery, and run happy.


So I did. I turned my attention away from my hurting body, to the ocean waves crashing to my left. I watched the crowds of people at the finish line drawing me in closer. I listened to the sounds of people cheering, cow-bells ringing, and waves crashing against the shore. I felt the biggest smile stretch across my face, mainly because I was so ecstatic to have made it to the end in one piece (and that I would be able to stop soon). It was almost over.

"You ready to sprint yet?" Bobby asked me.
I laughed pretty hard, mainly because I couldn't imagine running any faster than I already was. But somehow, I managed to pick it up, just a little bit.

We crossed the finish line at around 2:09:10. My phone clocked me in at 2:10:32 for a distance of 13.17 miles. Since I stopped it a little after I passed the finish line and kept walking, I'm going to just say I did it in under 2:09 :). I was more than happy with the results. And even happier with the race medal.