7 Miles

I ran seven miles yesterday. Seven. Still trying to wrap my head around it. I've never run that far in my life. At the end of the run I had tears in my eyes - not sure if it was from the sheer exhilaration of completing the seven miles or the realization that in five weeks I'll be running almost twice as far.

Back in the fall, overjoyed by the fact that I'd been running regularly without foot pain (finally!) I impulsively signed up for a half marathon after being persuaded to do so by several friends who posted their "I registered for the Rock n Roll Half!" statuses on Facebook. If they could do it, so could I! Click register, click pay, done.

**Note to self: next time you register for a half marathon, do one in the late fall. Spring races require you to train during the winter, during which time ice, snow and other weather related issues make running outside difficult, which then forces you to have to do the unthinkable - run on a treadmill. I hate the treadmill with a passion.

So I found myself outdoors yesterday for my long run of the week: iPod charged, water bottle filled, hair pulled back. **Another note to self: next time pack tissues. Snot rockets are not pretty.

Here's how it went. Lots of blood, sweat, tears and varying thoughts racing through my head.

Mile 1: Nice start. Went a different way and first few minutes are downhill. The air is crisp and cold, feet feel good, optimism rules. Run past kids' elementary school. Become a little sad about the fact that Jack no longer goes there. Wonder how it could be that he's almost a teenager. Try to redirect thoughts due to production of teary eyes. Focus on song playing in iPod which is Katy Perry's "Last Friday Night" which only makes me think of all the trouble Jack might get himself into in the next few years. Skip to next song.

Mile 2: Aaaah, more downhill. Why don't I go this way more often? Find myself passing the house we almost bought before we ended up buying our current home. Wonder what life would have been like if we had bought this house instead. Same swing still hangs from the tree in front. Our kids would have swung on that swing. Would they have had the same friends? Would we have joined the same pool? Would we know all the same people? A few minutes later find myself passing the house where our first neighborhood friends used to live. They have since moved away. I can still picture that day, me pushing Ella in her stroller, the family in their front yard, little girl running around in her underwear, the mom overjoyed at making a new friend, the husband getting out of his car and shaking my hand. I remember thinking, wow, I love this neighborhood! These people are so nice. Why don't we socialize with our neighborhood friends the way we used to? We're all so busy now, but why? Nothing has really changed. Make mental note to be more social.

Mile 3: Feeling good besides the fact that my nose keeps running. Then realize that I'm not even halfway done. Oh boy.

Mile 4: Lots of uphill, legs are starting to feel a little crampy. Hamstrings are screaming at me "Why did you do power yoga yesterday? What are you doing to us?" Hadn't realized power yoga was nothing like regular yoga. Had anticipated a nice hour of stretching. Oh, well. Happy for my water bottle, still wishing I'd brought tissues. Yuck.

Mile 5: Holy heavy legs. How am I going to do a half marathon? What was I thinking? Keep going, keep going. Concentrating so hard on keeping going that I almost crash into a guy who suddenly opens the gate behind his house and is about to step onto the sidewalk. "Sorry!" I yell loudly due to the fact that Pitbull is screaming "Don't Stop the Party" into my earbuds. Think I scared the guy, oops. Crazy runner.

Mile 6: "Go, go!" I say out loud. No one around but even if they were I wouldn't have cared. Note to self: try to run with some friends next weekend when I have to do eight miles. Self encouragement only goes so far. Legs feel like logs now, heavy, thumping, screaming at me. Water almost gone. Still in need of tissues. All decorum has flown out the window.

Mile 7: Home stretch. As if on cue my dad's favorite song "People Are Crazy" starts playing on my iPod. I can't believe it. Divine intervention. Thoughts of my dad bring tears to my eyes and before I know it I am sobbing and running, running and sobbing. Still no one around, probably a good thing. It's been months since I've had a breakdown like this one. Feels good. Pushes me forward and I run faster. Suddenly I realize that yes, I CAN run a half marathon. I can do anything.

Seven miles - done. As I walk slowly uphill to my house, Tom Jones starts singing. I smile. Thanks, Tato.