Around the beginning of November, a coworker suggested that we run the Cowtown Half Marathon together on February 24. I had never in my life run more than 8 kilometers at a time, and even that distance only once. I had not run more than the distance from the baseline to the net in many years. So, of course I’ll run 13.1 miles with you, Josh.
Training started slowly. I only managed two milers the first few times out. On my 14th run, I ran four miles for the first time since that 8K in 2001. My 17th run was a five-miler with Francis pacing me on the bicycle on the Trinity Trail. After seven miles (my 24th run), my knees ached at the top of the fibula on both legs. They continued to hurt throughout my running experience. They hurt today, eight days after my half marathon with no running in between.
My training partner, Josh, dropped out with an injured achilles tendon a week before the race. He gave his race bib to another coworker (who was more prepared than either of us to run this distance).
I had only reached ten miles during my long-run training, so I didn’t know how I would react to the long distance. The run itself was pretty unremarkable. I did lose steam in the last mile and a half, but I made it without walking. Probably a nutrition issue.
The very best part was at ten miles, after the one intimidating hill in the run, George came out and jogged with me for a hundred yards or so. Sally had planned that, but she didn’t expect Sam to dart out and run with us. George was such a workman, running at pace next to me with a stoic and determined look on his face. Sam was a gadfly, flitting around us and giggling like a maniac. The rest of the runners cheered for them when they split off.
My heart was so full.