I’m not sure how to talk about races I’ve run. I ran the Kinloch Offroad Half Marathon yesterday. Err…Hmm…Should I be bragging about my finish time? Should I tell you that my legs feel like they are disconnected from my body the morning after? Should I show you pictures of gnarly blisters that have me walking with crutches? (none of this is true) I don’t have any of the big, dramatic stories that seem to come with running long distances but here are a few things …
I tripped and almost fell on my face at KM 2, 5, 8, and 9…trail running in a competitive environment is a new beast for me
AT KM 3, I was praying the crowds would thin out. It reminded me of the conveyer belt but more claustrophobic
At KM 11 I would’ve rather sat on the side of the trail and eaten the rest of my gummy bears, the switchbacks were making my legs squeal
At KM 4, 14, and 19 the scenery was so beautiful I pondered stepping off the course and sightseeing instead
At KM 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11…20 I was in awe of my body. Since moving to New Zealand I have run less, but have been moving more. Everyday I am out exploring. And I’m not doing it for fitness. I’m doing it because it gives me peace. When I signed up for this race (a week ago, impulsive I know) I knew I wasn’t at peak fitness level. I mulled the idea over in my head. I haven’t trained at all my brain whined to me as I submitted my registration. I tossed and turned that night thinking I should switch to the 10k and even if I switched to the 10k I still wasn’t in good enough shape.
I ignored my brain. Because sometimes I think it needs ignoring.
I ran my little heart out.
And I placed so well I wanted to give my legs and feet a hug.