Awful Half

Not sure why this came out as one giant paragraph. I broke it up into many small ones, but they aren't showing up that way. I'll try to fix it later. I ran a half marathon last Sunday. I use the term "run" quite loosely. Let's just say that running the darn thing was simply be able to say I completed it. My time was my worst for the three halves I have done so far. Simply awful. I was hot. Out of shape. And lonely. Eric and I participated in the California Classic Weekend bike ride the day before. We rode the shortest distance of 35 miles. It was so much fun! It's pretty dang cool riding your bike up the south side of freeway 168. I felt great. I felt challenged. I loved doing the ride with my husband. That afternoon Eric and the kids took off for a soccer tournament. I had to stay home because my school was holding our annual Casino Night. I had to go. I just don't enjoy things as much without Eric around. I had a great time, but I missed my husband terribly. (I would never be a good military spouse. Eric was gone for one day, and I was pining.) I got home late, but still got up early to go to the half marathon on Sunday morning. I had to drive myself there. Ewwww. I'm not the best or calmest person driving downtown and having to deal with parking. Luckily, that went okay. I started the race trying to run .4 of a mile, walking for .10, running for .35 and walking for .25. That plan lasted for 2-3 miles. Then I started running for 60 seconds and walking for 90 seconds. That worked out better for me...until mile 11. It was at that point that I just ran out of steam. I was wallowing in self pity that Eric and the boys weren't there with me, I was disgusted at myself for being so out of shape, I was made that I hadn't trained, I was screaming at myself in my head for gaining weight...and on and on. I ended up walking the last two miles. I literally had to whisper to myself, "Hold it together. Hold it together." I can't tell you how many times I spoke that to myself. I wanted to cry, but I knew if I did, I wouldn't be able to stop. The only thing worse than being alone and depressed would have been having to be carried off my medical aide. If I had started crying, I would have collapsed, and I would not have been able to tell anyone what was wrong because I'd have been crying or refusing to talk. Oh, I forgot, I had also been fighting a pretty nasty cold since Friday. I was completely and utterly wiped out. I found no joy in doing this half other than completing it for the second year in a row and getting my medal. I hope to always do this half. It's a weird goal I have to run it for as long as I can since it started. I didn't even run across the finish line. I walked. Tears started at that point. I just grabbed my medal, grabbed some ice cream, and shuffled to my car. Driving myself home after a half sucked big time as well. Needless to say, I didn't do much for the rest of the day. I did clean up the kitchen. That was quite taxing. The rest of the afternoon was spent waiting for my family to get home. I missed them so much. I am glad I finished the half. I am not proud of my effort in any way shape or form. My body hurt so bad for three days post run. Today is Saturday, and I am finally ready to do some deep thinking and pull myself together. Enough is enough. I could have had such a great experience had I put effort into it. Any effort at all. I really let myself down. I plan to slowly build up to being able to maintain three miles. Then I'd like to keep that base for future training plans. It would be nice to not have to start over each time I want to run a half. One thing I know without a doubt. I NEED to exercise. Not for weight loss (but that is a nice benefit), but for peace of mind, depression control, anxiety control, and balance. It is necessary in my life. I have to treat it as if it was as natural as brushing my teeth. It was to be one of my highest priorities. There can't be months of no movement. I just don't do well when I fall into a lazy trap. And now, I'm off to eat Cheerios and exercise.