Running Thoughts

"Are you crazy?"

Yes, I am a little bit crazy, but I think we all knew that already. Signing up for half marathons was an idea; signing up for 10 half marathons was a mentality: go big or go home. Yes, I could have done two or three... But there was a 10-pack "tour pass" and I thought three would be too few and far in between. So I went for 10--for the sake of commitment, for the sake of adventure, and for the sake of 10 being a nice number. This was also an excuse for me to see more cities across the United States.

"How do you do it?"

At an expo earlier in the year, I saw a t-shirt that read "mind over miles" and that image remains vividly in my head. It takes a great deal of mental preparation--perhaps more of that than physical preparation. (Admittedly, I tell myself that also because I didn't physically prepare for most races, having treated each one as preparation/ training for the next.) Particularly toward the end of the year, when I started getting mentally and physically exhausted from traveling for and running each race, I frequently reminded myself that I set a goal for the year and I must accomplish it, no matter how long it took to cross the finish line each time.
Of course, part of the mentality was also the various people in my life who consistently asked about my past and upcoming runs, who encouraged me and wished me luck days preceding races... It helped tremendously to know that people supported my goals, even if they thought I was crazy. In summary, it really was mind over matter, mind over miles.

"Why do you do it?"

One of the slogans of the Rock n Roll Marathon Series is "I run for the bling". That isn't why I did it. Toward the end of 2017, I began experiencing some health issues caused by poor diabetes management, and for the first time in my life, I was scared. Each one of my doctors urged me to do better.
Until then, I had taken a few years hiatus from running because of knee pain. But then my knee kept hurting anyway, and I missed running... I also remembered how good my blood sugars were when I consistently ran years ago. At this point, I also weighed the most I'd weighed since my chubby pre-pubescent days, and I was not happy about it.
So I put two and two together, and decided to resume half marathons.

"Do you hate yourself?"

Only between miles 9 and 13.1 of every race, and particularly when I got hungry within those mile-markers. But otherwise, no. I did this because I needed to love myself more by taking care of my health (let's ignore the knee issue here, though). And in fact, I did come out of this with overall improved health conditions. While there is still much room for improvement, I'm happier with myself for feeling and looking better and for having accomplished what I only recently realized was quite a big goal.

"Which was your favorite?"

Seattle was by far my favorite, and it does have a lot to do with my positive predispositions of it. The route goes through different parts of the city, and while it's hilly, it's also beautiful because you catch some fantastic views of the downtown skyline. There are a few things I remember distinctly about this run:

• The "king of the hill" just past the mile 9 marker. For a little while preceding that, the route is pretty flat. You hit 9 and think, "Oh, not far to go." But then you turn the corner and face the runner's worst nightmare. And then you hear the multiple groans even through the music playing on your noise-canceling headphones. Then you see people slouched over as they trudge and toil step by step up the hill. Then you glare at those one or two individuals who have the audacity--and the ability--to actually jog it. 
• Mile 10.5. This was the very first time that I felt hungry during a run. I remember texting my friend about it because I was running out of steam and was imagining all the different foods I could be eating soon. Which made it worse, actually. 
• Shortly after that, I looked over at the downtown Seattle skyline on my right. And I decisively thought, "This could be me." 

"Which was the most challenging?"

• Oh, man. Montreal was the most mentally challenging because the course loops back after the sixth or seventh mile. So it was like doing the same thing twice, rather than one thing once. There was also nothing good to see past the fourth mile, so it wasn't motivating at all.
• Denver was both mentally and physically challenging because my blood sugar was low before I even crossed the start line, but I didn't realize it until half a mile in, when I needed to walk already. I stopped at the first medical tent at mile 1 and ate some honey (it was really weird, and I even made a comment about how my endocrinologist would disapprove) and a few cookies, which normally would have done the trick, but because I kept trying to jog, my blood sugar kept being low. It wasn't until mile 8.5 that I finally felt okay again. But by then my entire right leg had begun to hurt so much that for the first time, I began to question whether I could cross the finish line. At that point, though, I knew I had to make the mental push, because while I had never run through hypoglycemia before, I had run through pain on many an occasion. So run through pain I did. It was slow and gruesome, but the job got done. 
• This last one in San Antonio was a struggle because I fell victim to food poisoning 36 hours before the race. And for the first 24 hours, I could barely drink water. It sounds dramatic. It was dramatic. Even though I was able to eat a little bit the night before the race, I knew I still wasn't okay, and continued to doubt whether I could or should run the next morning. Again, it was a struggle... But I crossed the finish line for the last time this year. 

"Are you going to do it again?"

Initially I emphatically answered, "NOPE." When I was hating myself between miles 9 and 13.1 of the last few races, I angrily thought, "NEVER AGAIN (after December)." But on Tuesday, two days after San Antonio, I ran a 5k with a running group I recently joined, and I began to feel some heavy FOMO a few minutes into it. I realized that these half marathons defined my 2018: they defined what I did, where I went, and who I was this year. But who I have been isn't going to change. And if running is a large part of who I am, who would I be without running? This FOMO episode may also be classified as a mini existential crisis.
When we got back to the rendezvous point, there was a group of people announcing open registration for the Pasadena half marathon in January. Now if that wasn't a sign, I don't know what is.
To answer the question, I certainly will not do 10 again, but I certainly want to continue running. It's been an amazing, albeit exhausting, journey, and it doesn't have to stop here.