My hard work finally paid off

Wow! I would say I can't believe I actually finished my first half marathon, but every once in a while a little bit of leg pain sneaks up and reminds me that I did indeed run 13.1 miles and lived to tell about it.

Confession: I totally got one of those foil cape things because it looked really official. It totally came in handy once I stopped sweating. I was FREEZING for a good hour after the race.

I'm not kidding when I say that if you told me a year ago that I would run a half marathon, I wouldn't have believed you. I distinctly remember going with my mom to pick up a race packet for a 5K she was doing and talking about how I would never ever have one of those cliche "13.1" stickers on my car because there was no way I could actually run that much and stick with training long enough to do it safely. Fast forward to today and I have a medal and one of those totally stupid and cliche yet awesome stickers on my car. And in even more surprising news, this morning I started running in preparation to start training for my next half.

The journey to 13.1 was not an easy one. I started considering running a half back in the spring and questioned whether or not I could actually do it until I was about three miles into the actual race. Thankfully, I decided to sign up for Fleet Feet training. My weekly runs with my awesome coach and pace group really made all the difference. As the distance increased each week, so did my confidence. I quickly exceeded my distance records and found that I actually had the attention span to run 8, 10 and 12 miles at a time. Before Fleet Feet, I was a girl who ran sometimes. Now, I'm a runner.

Now, for the actual race. The week of the race was spent gulping down water and eating bagels and pasta every day because I had the excuse of "carb loading." I had two easy runs during the week and spent the rest of the week resting and convincing myself that yes, I was actually about to do this. Saturday Matt, my mom and I headed to the expo to pick up our packets and buy any last-minute necessities —still thanking the good lord I bought my fanny pack water bottle holder thingy (see, I'm not an expert yet). The rest of the day was spent doing some last-minute carb loading, laying out my gear (and instagramming it, obviously) and forcing ourselves to go to bed at 8: 30.

Here's my "flat Katie," as they call it in the running world. Note the new, flashy leggings. It's not really a special occasion until you buy a new outfit for it, right?

On Sunday, we had a 4:45 wake up call and excitedly got ready and posted selfies on snapchat so everyone knew what we were up to all day. We got downtown pretty early and and hung out until about 6:45 when we headed to our corrals. Then the nerves set in- mostly because my Pandora wasn't working. With the release of each corral my nerves started disappearing but I kept thinking how crazy it was that this was actually happening. Around 7:20, we were off! The first half mile my mom and I stuck together, but then I bolted ahead. I was feeling good. Then around mile 1.5, my foot started to hurt. I ran through it and was good to go by mile 3. Miles 3 through 5 were kind of a blur. I know I felt good, but I was in the zone. At mile 5.5, I saw Matt's dad, which was exciting. He's a marathoner so it was good to hear him say I was looking good. I saw my dad a little later, posed for an awkward picture and was back on my way. I knew I'd see him at the finish with my aunts, cousin and grandpa so I really wanted to keep going.

After mile 6.5, I knew I could do this thing. I was halfway there, feeling good, full of bananas, sport beans and gatorade and the course was really starting to get pretty. The second half of the course was through the Grove, around Tower Grove park and through Compton Heights and Lafayette Square. I had never been around that area and was pleasantly surprised by it. The day was gorgeous and sunny and running through the park was gorgeous as the leaves were changing and Compton Heights was two or three miles through residential streets full of old mansions and lots of cheerleaders using the race as an excuse to tailgate all morning.

Around mile 10, someone set up an unofficial beer stand and I was feeling great at that point (hey there, endorphins) so I indulged and was off once again. I ran into my coach around mile 11 and the head coach of the training program. His thumbs-up was great motivation to finish with flair. The last mile and a half was almost all down hill and I felt the best I had all race. The elation was definitely setting in. After one last hill, I turned the corner, saw the finish line and my eyes filled with tears. I did it! I stopped crying pretty quickly because I'm pretty sure people thought I was in pain instead of sheer disbelief and pride, but oh well I did it! I crossed the finish line a few seconds later and was so so so so happy and proud and hungry and cold and tired.

I grabbed some food, met up with my family and waited for my mom to finish and she wasn't far behind!

 It was fun watching her finish because this was such a huge accomplishment for her and she had no idea her sisters and dad were going to be there, so it was fun to be in on the surprise. 

 The rest of the day was spent eating, recapping the race, eating and starting to feel the pain set in. Matt and I definitely struggled even getting out of bed the rest of the day, but every second of pain, every bad run, every dollar spent on water bottles and leggings was absolutely worth it.

Recovery at its finest

I've always been hard working when it comes to school or work because my parents were paying for it or I had to be a team player, but I've never been dedicated to doing something just for me. Heck, I can barely finish the books I start. I am so so proud of myself for sticking with this for the better part of 2014. I'm so proud of myself for waking up every Saturday at 5:20 and going home almost every day after work and lacing up my shoes and hitting the trail. I'm so proud of myself for ignoring the part of me that said I would never do this. And I'm so proud of myself for finding a passion and a hobby and something to stick with. I've got two months between now and when training starts again and I'm confident I'll be ready to log another 150 miles come January. Who knows, maybe one day I'll even get to add a "26.2" sticker to my car ...