Despite my lack of training, I did set out early on that September morning to run the race. Right from the start, I was behind. I was sure it would be okay because I knew that at some point all those people would realize they were running too quickly and be forced to slow down. Long story short-I was done right before mile 3. My mother's beautiful golden saving grace on four wheels sped past me and pulled over just yards in front of me. I jogged my way to the vehicle and admitted defeat. We (myself, my mother and my stepfather) went and got breakfast. We then made our way to the finish line and I passed over my timing chip, "No, I don't need it," I said to the collecting lady. On the way out I grabbed a vitamin water-I earned it... kinda.
I know I wasn't prepared, yet somewhere in my brain I was sure I could still do it-so I tried. And maybe I could have done it, if forced. I'm not even mad. Maybe I'll try again later. As of right now I'll stick to the short races... if I even want to try the running thing again. I ran a 5K for Breast Cancer in the beginning of October and I was okay with that. Not everyone was running, so I felt okay about not being in the front of the pack since there were a lot of people behind me-no one was in it to win. I know I am capable of a lot, but that doesn't mean I should set my goals unrealistically high.
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