13.1 Miles Later

So I did it. I actually ran a half marathon. My time was nothing to write home about (okay fine, it was 2:47, but who’s counting?), but I crossed that finish line and immediately wanted to cry happy tears.

13.1 Miles Later

Sophie was there at the finish with her homemade sign that said “GO MOMMY!” in purple crayon, and Marcus held up his own masterpiece that read “She’s fast but I’m still faster at changing diapers.” The man thinks he’s hilarious. The crowd loved it though.

I started training three months ago, mostly just to prove to myself that I could do something hard. Turns out running 13.1 miles is indeed hard, but so is everything else worth doing. Plus now I have this shiny medal that Sophie keeps trying to steal, and legitimate bragging rights for at least a week.

Next up: convincing Marcus that a celebration dinner counts as carb loading for my next race. Because yes, there will be a next one. This running thing might actually stick.