Amazingly, I enjoyed participating in Houston's half-marathon. I felt like it was something God had put on my heart to do--especially raising some money for Living Water International. I feel very blessed that the donation goal for my participation was reached, and also that I completed the race!
I was very nervous that morning. Somehow, I had finagled my friend, Kelley, to ride with me at 5ish to downtown for the start. We parked the car, walked in the dark and finally made it to be under the fluorescent lights of the convention center to join the rest of the million runners.
Finally, it was time. I hadn't ran in two weeks because of straining my IT band. I had watched some YouTube training videos of ways to change my running stride to hopefully correct my gait so I would not keep adding to the injury. I ran slow with the pack for the first few miles. Any time the elevation changed (which in Houston is mainly just roads over roads), I was in pain.
I wore a rain jacket until mile 2, and then decided to let the light rain cool me off. In mile 3, we crossed from downtown to the 5th Ward. I've driven in the 5th Ward at night dropping some teens off from Young Life, so I know it is best to run quickly through that area. On a normal day, it would not be a path that I would take for a leisurely run by myself. On mile 4, I was in the Heights. I kept looking for familiar faces, but didn't see anyone I recognized. I did hear a band playing some Jesus music.
On miles 5-6, I ran down Studemont. I had flashbacks of my first teaching job where I drove that road every day to work. I almost stepped on a deadrat but another runner helped point it out just in time.
During miles 6-7, I realized that my "running" pace was slower than some walkers. My knee was really hurting, so I started to walk some and then add in faster runs so my time wouldn't be too horrible. At this point, my toe sent a message to my brain saying, "I think we have a blister-situation down here!"
On mile 8, I introduced myself to Gary. I thought he was a politican or something becuase everyone in the crowd kept yelling his name. I had my name on my shirt, too, but I probably had three people pick me out from the crowd the whole way. Gary had everybody's attention. He later said it was because he was tall, old, and slow. He was also smiling. And he was enjoying the run.
At mile 8.5, I found a first aid station and decided to do a run-by pick-up for a band-aid. As the hand-off took place, I felt my back leg get tangled with a man's leg that was stepping out from the crowd. I just about ate pavement over trying to get a band-aid to-go, but thank goodness I caught myself. The prayer station was next, so maybe I was in close enough prayer-proximity.
Working my way up to mile 9, I realized I was getting closer to the end and still felt pretty good, except for the knee pain that would kick in, so I decided to try to run a bit faster between walks. I told Gary he was my pacer. Later, he shared with me that he had thought I said I was his patient, and that made him think he must be in pretty bad shape.
I saw a fellow LWI team member and introduced myself to her. She was also run/walking. She joined me and Gary, and we all made a pack to run to the next light.
Gary shared with me the story from the devotion from the morning. The minister had said, "Flee from evil. Run to God." I was doing my best to run that race!
I attempted to sip some gatorade and slurp some goo at mile 11. I felt guilty throwing the empty cup on the ground. It reminded me of when you go to those restaurants that make you toss the peanut shells on the floor. It doesn't seem nice--even if it is socially acceptable during a race.
During mile 12, I ran down Allen Parkway. This is the road that I run the Susan Komen 5K on every year. It's also the road that leads to the 4th Ward where some of my sweet Young Life friends live. At this point, I started running harder. I could see finishers from the marathon sprinting past. I felt more like a spectator at that point than a racer. I was in awe at their speed and form.
At mile 13, Gary was back running with me. I think I teased some men for running slow. At this point, I could have been a bit out of my head. I think I tended to talk too much during the race for serious racers, but I was having fun! My inner-Granny (my sweet grandmother who had difficulty zipping the lips) was coming out in me. Perhaps I was at my most true state of myself at that point being physically drained. So, this could be an indicator that when I am old, prepare for me to talk your legs off even more.
Finally, I finished. Gary was by my side. Praise God! It was a great feeling. A long, road, but manageable with prayer and encouragement.
I met a few more people post race that touched my heart. But I will share that in the next post.
...to be continued...
I was very nervous that morning. Somehow, I had finagled my friend, Kelley, to ride with me at 5ish to downtown for the start. We parked the car, walked in the dark and finally made it to be under the fluorescent lights of the convention center to join the rest of the million runners.
Finally, it was time. I hadn't ran in two weeks because of straining my IT band. I had watched some YouTube training videos of ways to change my running stride to hopefully correct my gait so I would not keep adding to the injury. I ran slow with the pack for the first few miles. Any time the elevation changed (which in Houston is mainly just roads over roads), I was in pain.
I wore a rain jacket until mile 2, and then decided to let the light rain cool me off. In mile 3, we crossed from downtown to the 5th Ward. I've driven in the 5th Ward at night dropping some teens off from Young Life, so I know it is best to run quickly through that area. On a normal day, it would not be a path that I would take for a leisurely run by myself. On mile 4, I was in the Heights. I kept looking for familiar faces, but didn't see anyone I recognized. I did hear a band playing some Jesus music.
On miles 5-6, I ran down Studemont. I had flashbacks of my first teaching job where I drove that road every day to work. I almost stepped on a deadrat but another runner helped point it out just in time.
During miles 6-7, I realized that my "running" pace was slower than some walkers. My knee was really hurting, so I started to walk some and then add in faster runs so my time wouldn't be too horrible. At this point, my toe sent a message to my brain saying, "I think we have a blister-situation down here!"
On mile 8, I introduced myself to Gary. I thought he was a politican or something becuase everyone in the crowd kept yelling his name. I had my name on my shirt, too, but I probably had three people pick me out from the crowd the whole way. Gary had everybody's attention. He later said it was because he was tall, old, and slow. He was also smiling. And he was enjoying the run.
At mile 8.5, I found a first aid station and decided to do a run-by pick-up for a band-aid. As the hand-off took place, I felt my back leg get tangled with a man's leg that was stepping out from the crowd. I just about ate pavement over trying to get a band-aid to-go, but thank goodness I caught myself. The prayer station was next, so maybe I was in close enough prayer-proximity.
Working my way up to mile 9, I realized I was getting closer to the end and still felt pretty good, except for the knee pain that would kick in, so I decided to try to run a bit faster between walks. I told Gary he was my pacer. Later, he shared with me that he had thought I said I was his patient, and that made him think he must be in pretty bad shape.
I saw a fellow LWI team member and introduced myself to her. She was also run/walking. She joined me and Gary, and we all made a pack to run to the next light.
Gary shared with me the story from the devotion from the morning. The minister had said, "Flee from evil. Run to God." I was doing my best to run that race!
I attempted to sip some gatorade and slurp some goo at mile 11. I felt guilty throwing the empty cup on the ground. It reminded me of when you go to those restaurants that make you toss the peanut shells on the floor. It doesn't seem nice--even if it is socially acceptable during a race.
During mile 12, I ran down Allen Parkway. This is the road that I run the Susan Komen 5K on every year. It's also the road that leads to the 4th Ward where some of my sweet Young Life friends live. At this point, I started running harder. I could see finishers from the marathon sprinting past. I felt more like a spectator at that point than a racer. I was in awe at their speed and form.
At mile 13, Gary was back running with me. I think I teased some men for running slow. At this point, I could have been a bit out of my head. I think I tended to talk too much during the race for serious racers, but I was having fun! My inner-Granny (my sweet grandmother who had difficulty zipping the lips) was coming out in me. Perhaps I was at my most true state of myself at that point being physically drained. So, this could be an indicator that when I am old, prepare for me to talk your legs off even more.
Finally, I finished. Gary was by my side. Praise God! It was a great feeling. A long, road, but manageable with prayer and encouragement.
I met a few more people post race that touched my heart. But I will share that in the next post.
...to be continued...
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