The countdown

Confession time: I'm running the Memorial half marathon. Holy smokes. There's a little countdown clock that I added to the blog there on the left. It's like a countdown to doomsday. Here's a column I wrote about it.

The sun hadn't risen and the sky was a cool gray. I shivered. Downtown Oklahoma City is even more beautiful before sunrise.

Hundreds of runners gathered in the faint light Sunday morning in front of the Oklahoma City National Memorial.

I felt pretty short and pretty out of shape, but I decided I'd go ahead and pretend like I knew what I was doing. No one except for my friend next to me knew this was my first time out with the Landrunners Oklahoma City Running Club.

I've been training for the past few months, and my goal is to run the half marathon May 1 during the 11th annual Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon.

After the birth of my daughter in 2009 and knee surgery in 2010, I hope for 2011 to be the year of the comeback.

I trained alone for several weeks, and then I felt brave enough to run with a pair of runner friends a few times. Sunday was my first time on a training run with the
Landrunners.

The group runs each Sunday morning. Most are training for the marathon; some are running the half.

My goal was to stay within sight of the pack, though that only lasted a few miles. I walked and jogged. I took a wrong turn. I huffed and puffed.

I decided to add an extra block to make up for getting lost, so I was alone for the last mile and a half.

The wind was still and the streets were nearly empty. The birch trees filtered the morning sunlight. The only things that seemed to move were my feet and my mind.

I thought about how afraid I was to tell anyone that I wanted to run a half marathon. I thought others — especially real runners, real athletes — would scoff at my goal.

Alone on Robinson Avenue, I realized I was the one who thought it was impossible.

Others didn't.

Runners who passed me on the route gave me smiles or thumbs up. Volunteers waved me on. My friend finished long before I did, but she waited dutifully for me to complete the 6.5-mile run.

Runners encourage one another because everyone has the same goal: to finish. The only person who thought my goal was out of reach was me.

Then I started crying.

Turns out, crying while running is even harder than just regular running.

So I shut up and saved it for the finish line. Then I cried some more, which probably made my friend feel pretty awkward. But that's what she gets for having such an emotional running buddy.

Sunday marked 11 weeks until the Memorial Marathon. I have lots of days and lots of miles ahead. I'm ready to run now that I've dumped my biggest naysayer: myself.