The reason my blog is titled, "breathing in...."
.... is because sometimes, when life throws everything right in your face, it can be so comforting just to take some deep inhales and exhales, and remember that everything happens for a reason.
Sometimes I hate that things have to happen for a reason. That's all I'm gonna write.
10.21.2009
10.13.2009
half-marathon.
This post may be confusing, or worded funny, or sound weird, but it is what it is and I hope you like it!!
I was nervous, but as soon as everyone started shuffling forward on the street in downtown Spokane, I knew that 13.1 miles of running had begun. Oh, crap. Nervous, nervous, nervous! Also: freezing in 21 degree weather!
Mile 1 went by really fast.
Around mile 5, my chest got a little tight and it was somewhat difficult to breathe. I'm sure it was the cold air. After that stopped, around mile 6, I would be running and then would see people pass me, and start walking. Oh man it looked so nice to walk. Part of me thought, "They're walking, maybe it would be okay if I walk too." HECK NO!!!! RUN! So.... I ran past those little, tempting, lucky, walkers, and continued to run.
Then came mile 9... "Doomsday Hill." This is the same stupid, big, intimidating hill that they stick in the Bloomsday Race. It's very, very, long. I told Krista and Amber that I wanted to walk. They both looked at me and said, "NO! You're running this. RUN!" I rolled my eyes, and ran. Heck yes, I ran the huge, stupid hill. At this point, I didn't care if I had to run a lot longer or not, as long as it was nice and flat, or at least gradual if there was a hill.
Mile 12 came, and yes, there was a nice, surprise HILL! But really, if you're one mile away from the finish, how on earth could anyone think it's acceptable to walk at this point!? Oh, only everyone around me! It looked so nice! But I kept running. I ran the hill and continued.
People that were stationed at the check-points kept saying, "You're almost there!" I was so excited. I ran over a bridge and saw the finish line. The minute I ran through, they took my number off of my shirt, and gave me a finisher medal. (I've never had a medal and it was so exciting!!)
Then, something really unexpected happened. I started crying. Krista ran up to me and hugged me, and asked me why I was crying. I gave her a pretty short answer, just saying that I was so happy that I had finished and ran an entire half-marathon, 13.1 miles, and that I had wanted to accomplish that for a while.
In the last four years, I have gone through some huge struggles and experienced a lot of difficult events. Each hill that I came to in this race, I thought of those things. At the bottom of the hills, I thought of divorce, my Uncle George, my Baba, friends who have hurt me and lied to me, relationships that were based on lies... I left all that at the bottom of those hills. All the hurt, sadness, pain....
I used to HATE running. Like, I would rather pay someone money so that I didn't have to run. Like I've said in other blogs, running is my release, in a sense, and has been, especially since I started deciding to leave Portland.
Anyway, back to the hills. Every hill I came to in this 13.1 mile run, I would think of all the crap that I've put up with in the last few years. All the tears I have cried, all the b.s. I took, all the lies I was told, all the second chances I gave to people. I left all that garbage at the bottom of those hills. Not only did I leave the garbage. I thought of all those people who helped me through all of those things. My mom, Meryl, my dad, Marissa, Jena, Liz, Krista, Dominic, Carrie, Rachel, Devin, Erika, Cassie and Danielle, Anna, Becca, Amy Chinn, Mark, Amber and Donnie, Christian, Joanne, Alisha, Marie Wachlin.... there were also others. Some of these people probably had no idea that they had such a huge impact on my life. Each day, these people helped me through rough patches when they didn't even know it. They are like the check-points on my race. When I got water or "Sharkies" (gummy energy chews), it helped me keep going. That's what these people did. They helped me keep going.
I can't fully explain it, but I have wanted to do a half-marathon for well over a year now. It's done. I wish I could really explain in words, but all that I have been through... this physical race was me leaving it, for good. I don't even know if I am making sense right now, but it felt soooo good. That is why I cried. I am free of so much. God set me free, and running this race was sort of like a physical way that I could feel myself be free of all of it. People near the end kept saying, "Keep going, you're almost there!" I would pray so much and felt like God was telling me to keep going. Even when I was at my lowest point and it seemed like everything was wrong, God was cheering me on. He had a plan for me and wanted me to keep my head up and keep going. I did. The minute I drove across the Montana border after leaving Portland for good, it was a similar feeling of that which I felt the minute I crossed the finish line on Sunday.
God is amazing. I am so glad I ran this race. It means more than getting a specific time or seeing how long I can run. There was a lot of underlying meaning for me to running this race. It is done. I am free. I am so happy and so thankful to be in the arms of my Father.
I can't wait to run another one! : )
I was nervous, but as soon as everyone started shuffling forward on the street in downtown Spokane, I knew that 13.1 miles of running had begun. Oh, crap. Nervous, nervous, nervous! Also: freezing in 21 degree weather!
Mile 1 went by really fast.
Around mile 5, my chest got a little tight and it was somewhat difficult to breathe. I'm sure it was the cold air. After that stopped, around mile 6, I would be running and then would see people pass me, and start walking. Oh man it looked so nice to walk. Part of me thought, "They're walking, maybe it would be okay if I walk too." HECK NO!!!! RUN! So.... I ran past those little, tempting, lucky, walkers, and continued to run.
Then came mile 9... "Doomsday Hill." This is the same stupid, big, intimidating hill that they stick in the Bloomsday Race. It's very, very, long. I told Krista and Amber that I wanted to walk. They both looked at me and said, "NO! You're running this. RUN!" I rolled my eyes, and ran. Heck yes, I ran the huge, stupid hill. At this point, I didn't care if I had to run a lot longer or not, as long as it was nice and flat, or at least gradual if there was a hill.
Mile 12 came, and yes, there was a nice, surprise HILL! But really, if you're one mile away from the finish, how on earth could anyone think it's acceptable to walk at this point!? Oh, only everyone around me! It looked so nice! But I kept running. I ran the hill and continued.
People that were stationed at the check-points kept saying, "You're almost there!" I was so excited. I ran over a bridge and saw the finish line. The minute I ran through, they took my number off of my shirt, and gave me a finisher medal. (I've never had a medal and it was so exciting!!)
Then, something really unexpected happened. I started crying. Krista ran up to me and hugged me, and asked me why I was crying. I gave her a pretty short answer, just saying that I was so happy that I had finished and ran an entire half-marathon, 13.1 miles, and that I had wanted to accomplish that for a while.
In the last four years, I have gone through some huge struggles and experienced a lot of difficult events. Each hill that I came to in this race, I thought of those things. At the bottom of the hills, I thought of divorce, my Uncle George, my Baba, friends who have hurt me and lied to me, relationships that were based on lies... I left all that at the bottom of those hills. All the hurt, sadness, pain....
I used to HATE running. Like, I would rather pay someone money so that I didn't have to run. Like I've said in other blogs, running is my release, in a sense, and has been, especially since I started deciding to leave Portland.
Anyway, back to the hills. Every hill I came to in this 13.1 mile run, I would think of all the crap that I've put up with in the last few years. All the tears I have cried, all the b.s. I took, all the lies I was told, all the second chances I gave to people. I left all that garbage at the bottom of those hills. Not only did I leave the garbage. I thought of all those people who helped me through all of those things. My mom, Meryl, my dad, Marissa, Jena, Liz, Krista, Dominic, Carrie, Rachel, Devin, Erika, Cassie and Danielle, Anna, Becca, Amy Chinn, Mark, Amber and Donnie, Christian, Joanne, Alisha, Marie Wachlin.... there were also others. Some of these people probably had no idea that they had such a huge impact on my life. Each day, these people helped me through rough patches when they didn't even know it. They are like the check-points on my race. When I got water or "Sharkies" (gummy energy chews), it helped me keep going. That's what these people did. They helped me keep going.
I can't fully explain it, but I have wanted to do a half-marathon for well over a year now. It's done. I wish I could really explain in words, but all that I have been through... this physical race was me leaving it, for good. I don't even know if I am making sense right now, but it felt soooo good. That is why I cried. I am free of so much. God set me free, and running this race was sort of like a physical way that I could feel myself be free of all of it. People near the end kept saying, "Keep going, you're almost there!" I would pray so much and felt like God was telling me to keep going. Even when I was at my lowest point and it seemed like everything was wrong, God was cheering me on. He had a plan for me and wanted me to keep my head up and keep going. I did. The minute I drove across the Montana border after leaving Portland for good, it was a similar feeling of that which I felt the minute I crossed the finish line on Sunday.
God is amazing. I am so glad I ran this race. It means more than getting a specific time or seeing how long I can run. There was a lot of underlying meaning for me to running this race. It is done. I am free. I am so happy and so thankful to be in the arms of my Father.
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