I blame you.

Why didn’t you tell me it was crazy? All you had to say was, “Jen. 13 miles is a lot. You’re off your rocker if you think you can run that far.” And I would have no doubt come to my senses and replied, “You’re absolutely right. How about instead of going for another training run, I go get some coffee?”

I mean, who in their right mind volunteers to run 13.1 miles? Moreover, who pays to enter a race with other psychos to run 13.1 miles?

Crazies, that’s who.

I very logically signed up for this half marathon. I’d always wanted to run one and finally stopped being pregnant long enough to train. I mapped out a training plan that increased my long run by one mile each week until I got to 14 miles. Training for a half would be easy, I just needed to stick to my plan, fuel my body well, stay committed, and voila – I’d run a half marathon at the end of January.


Except I forgot about a hidden part to that equation. It turns out that a+b=YOU’RE CRAZY!

At least that’s what I’m thinking to myself as I look through the photos from last year’s Texas Half:

These people are real runners. They have fancy running clothes, flat stomachs, bib numbers, medals, and appear to be very well prepared for the daunting task before them.

Me? I’m just a Mom. A Mom who squeezes in a long run every week in between diaper changes, fevers, wrestling matches, and dinner prep. A Mom who more often than not skips her mid-week runs because she could really use that extra 45 minutes of sleep. I don’t do ice baths. I’ve never done a tempo run. The word “fartlek” makes me giggle.

Clearly, I was more than a little ambitious when I registered for the Texas Half.

What am I thinking? 13.1 miles is no joke. What if I can’t do it? What if I get lost on the way there? What if my knee start hurting again? What if my stomach cramps up? What if I start too fast and run out of steam? What if I have to stop?

But what if I try?  Maybe I’ll line up with the other very prepared looking runners, and run right alongside them. Maybe I’ll remember that time I gave birth. Twice. And didn’t think I could make it, but kept going and working and pushing through, and it turned out to be one of the most amazing things I’ve ever accomplished. Maybe I’ll remember when I ran 12 miles with the flu and tell myself that this little ‘ole race has nothing on me.

Maybe I’ll do something really crazy and succeed. Maybe, just maybe…I will.


3 thoughts on “13.1

  1. Here’s one key thing I’ve learned after doing many of these silly races: people always look far more hardcore in their racing clothes than they actually are. You’ll see tons of people that look like blazing athletes and then you’ll pass them at mile 4 and never see them again.

    You’ll be great — the half marathon is a remarkably fun distance because it challenges you without destroying you, though it might feel like it the first few times.

    Best of luck!

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