When we set goals, the intent is always to persevere. And sometimes we do, and sometimes we don\u2019t (because sometimes, you won\u2019t). Last Saturday I successfully ran my second half marathon, and I was humbled and reminded yet again that our bodies can do amazing things when we will them to. <\/p>\n
The entire race journey is really an exercise in body awareness and mental manipulation. It is perhaps the only true exception to the widely accepted definition of insanity. You show up and repeat the same action, day after day, mile after mile, hour after hour, song after song, and expect different outcomes. But it doesn\u2019t make you crazy. Just optimistic. Because in this case you actually do get a mixed bag of results depending on the day, the weather, the wind, the blisters. My 8-mile training run was as painful for my pride as it was for my knees and lungs. I ached psychologically, physically, spiritually, from the second my sneakers hit the pavement until we turned the final corner. Just 4 weeks later, I completed a 10-mile run with a full minute shaved off my splits and a damn-near cocky disposition. Running is the most unpredictable game you can play with yourself. Strategy is for suckers. <\/p>\n And yet, I keep dealing myself in. I am not a great runner. I aspire to be, of course, but I am not great. I will never break the tape. In fact, the tape and streamers have been swept up and taken to the dumpster 5 blocks away by the time I finish. But I still come to the party. Better yet, I bring a guest. If you\u2019ve been hanging in here for awhile you might remember my bud Britni who ran with me last year<\/a>. That was until we had to part dramatically around mile 10 and I finished \u2018er out with a 70-year-old stranger. <\/p>\n This year Britni went and got herself in the family way, but one of my ride-or-dies for the last 18 years, Jackie, signed up. Jackie, much like me, much like Britni, was not a runner when she checked the boxes to enter the race. It was a leap of faith. It was a declaration of an intent to persevere. It was brave, and she was brave for doing it. What possessed her? I think the same thing that possesses most people who sign up for these things. It\u2019s a temporary self-improvement project. It\u2019s purpose. Plus, don\u2019t we all just want a win once in awhile? <\/p>\n For 12 weeks, starting in July, every Sunday I met either Jackie or my embarrassingly swifter friend Jill for the week\u2019s long run. While the training schedule<\/a> was exactly the same, something felt different this year. I don\u2019t think I had what I would categorize as \u201ca good run\u201d until the very last training run the Monday before the race. <\/p>\n \u201cMan, do you feel older this year?\u201d Jill asked during week 3. You guys, i wish I were being facetious. At the ripe age of 33, my hips, ankles, knees and back screamed at me for 12 straight weeks to, for the love of all that is holy, stop hammering them into the ground and dragging them up small hills that felt like Mount Kilimanjaro. I guess I just never found my groove this go-around. But Jackie did, and then she lost it, and then she found it again. And I was so, so proud. <\/p>\n There is a rare joy that comes with watching someone else uncover a soul-changing strength that was just lurking in the caverns of their being, completely untapped. While I think most of us have that grit, not everyone chooses to go looking for it. Or to push themselves to that point where you either discover it or abandon the pursuit of it. Turns out, I get my jollies watching others push themselves to this uncomfortable, magnificent place. I mean, I like to do it myself as well, but moreso it\u2019s the watching others. <\/p>\n Glennon Doyle Melton has a term for these discovery missions, and life in general. She calls them, \u201cbrutiful\u201d. Because certain moments of every day are brutal. And certain moments of every day are beautiful. Life is brutiful. Running is brutiful.<\/p>\n There were stretches of country roads where it was just me, Jackie, God and the sunset. Beautiful. There were gradual inclines that hit just as a side stitch settled in. Brutal. High fiving one of my dearest friends after 2 hours of uninterrupted conversation and a new personal best; Beautiful. Chaffed armpits and chin acne; Brutal. See how that works. It\u2019s the good with the bad. The tightrope stretched between triumph and adversity. Any challenge worth taking is one peppered with trials because, let\u2019s face it, perseverance is a prize that doesn\u2019t come cheap. <\/p>\n On the day of the race, my sweet Jackie felt good. Really good. The temperature was ideal. The crowd and spectators were supportive. All the pieces were in place for a spectacular morning. But I had lead legs. I don\u2019t know why. Why do these things ever happen? Not enough training. Too much training. The fact that I had peanut butter toast instead of dippy eggs. Who knows. But my limbs felt like cinder blocks from mile 3 on. <\/p>\n I\u2019m always amazed at the master-slave relationship between the mind and the body. If you will it, they will run. Confession: The only things that fueled me to the finish line on that October morning were my persistent best friend, stupid pride and a ravenous desire for Chipotle. <\/p>\n \u201cGet outta your head,\u201d Jackie urged. \u201cYou\u2019ve got this, Court.\u201d I so badly wanted her well-intentioned pep talk to be the magic pill that broke up the cement encasing my extremities and my state of mind, but sadly it just wasn\u2019t that kind of day for this old mare. It\u2019s so frustrating when your expectation for yourself and your actual ability can\u2019t find a way to communicate and compromise. <\/p>\n But just as tortoises do, I slowly, steadily finished the race. I think that\u2019s a big part of the bargaining I\u2019ve learned to do with myself. I accept that I will finish, but I also have to accept that I won\u2019t be doing it quickly. Once I resign myself to the reality that I will eventually get where I\u2019m going and I won\u2019t, in fact, die getting there, I\u2019m usually OK with hangin\u2019 in. But speed is nonnegotiable. My body just takes it off the table. Covering the distance will have to be enough. <\/p>\n When the finish line was in sight, my homegirl sprinted it in. \u201cGet that for yourself,\u201d I thought. My pace stayed lukewarm but amazingly, I finished the race 4 minutes faster than I did last year<\/a>. Jill blew her goal out of the water and came in well under 2 hours. I see a full marathon in that mama\u2019s future. <\/p>\n The punctuation mark to these things is always the post-race picture. It\u2019s over. You did it. You can throw your arms over each other\u2019s shoulders, rehash the brutiful moments and smile the truest smile. Because that smile is relief spilling out of you. Relief that you did it. Relief that they did it. Relief that no one got hurt. Relief that all that time away from your family wasn\u2019t for nothing. Relief that rest is a car ride away. <\/p>\n![\"half-marathon-morning-2\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/desperatelyseekingsuperwoman.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/10\/Half-Marathon-Morning-2.jpg\")
<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n
\n\u201cYa know, I do.\u201d I said. <\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n
\n[me, panting]
\n\u201cC\u2019mon girl. We\u2019re finishing this thing together. I can\u2019t do it without you.\u201d
\n[more panting] \u201cUh huh.\u201d
\n\u201cI can tell you\u2019re in your head. C\u2019mon Court!\u201d
\n\u201cJac, I love you, but this won\u2019t make me go any faster.\u201d
\n[both panting]<\/p>\n