After the high of having completed a near-10 mile run, I did what any other completely insane person would do: I walked through my front door, logged onto the internet, and signed up for a half marathon.
That’s right–Aug. 4, I will participate in the Richfield, Minn., “Urban Wildlands” half-marathon. It’s the day that, per my training program, I am supposed to run 14 miles, but I think I’ll run a little less: 13.1, to be exact. It will be my longest run–and my longest race–to date. I’ve run a handful of 5k races, a 10k, and the TC 1 mile, but my “distance” runs have never been in a race setting, and I am eager for the crowd support.
If you’ve never watched a race before–specifically a marathon–I encourage you to get out there and show your support. It is possibly the coolest thing I’ve ever witnessed, and in fact, watching my brother run the Twin Cities Marathon in 2005 ushered me through the range of so many different emotions that you’d think I’d WON the marathon, rather than just standing on the sidelines watching.
You see everything: old people, young people. Skinny people, fat people. People in costumes. People in nearly nothing. You see people dedicating their runs to other people (as I will most likely do). The year I watched my brother run, I saw a man running WHO HAD NO LEGS. Now certainly, if a man with prosthetic limbs can run a marathon, I can get my two perfectly good–strong, even–legs to carry me 26.2 miles.
Most importantly, you see people on a journey with themselves: believing, trying, breaking down and picking themselves back up again…pushing themselves outside their comfort zones to accomplish something they never dreamed possible, and when they think they are all out of steam, the crowd’s emotions and support lift them up and provide shelter from the storm…an emotional halfway house for runners. When I saw the legless man soar by me, a HUGE smile on his face, my soul spoke too thunderously to ignore: “I want that. Me. Jessica.”
When I say it’s insane to sign up for the half marathon, it’s not the attempt I’m talking about. Rather, the insane part is my confidence that I can finish. Me. Jessica—the overweight girl who couldn’t run 10 minutes, let alone 10 miles, when she started. Through some amazing miracle, I’m actually good at this. I’m not fast, but I’m good.
I’m diligent. I’m disciplined. I’m detailed. And most importantly, I am determined.
By Jessica Seaberg
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