Ain't No Mountain High Enough

I ran a half marathon yesterday.

Yup. After planning and training and thinking and talking about this marathon since Christmas, I ended up doing the half instead of the full. And I know it was absolutely the right thing to do.

I ran a marathon three and a half years ago in San Diego. I had trained with a team, raised money for leukemia research and gotten a stress fracture weeks before the race and couldn't complete my training. I worked so hard in phyical therapy to get ready for race day. Harder than I'd worked at almost anything in my life. Crossing that finish line meant everything to me and I never let myself think that it wouldn't happen. I'm still glad I pushed through and finished.

And I wasn't entertaining the possibility of not finishing this one either. I was well trained, I was healthy, I had fantastic support-there was no reason I couldn't nail this one. And then I had a week that was one of the most emotionally draining/fulfilling of my adult life and my perspective on this goal completely changed. Last friday my mom and Emily showed up unexpectedly and we had a wonderful time together. I love my family so much and miss them an obscene amount and seeing them was such a perfect birthday treat, then I had a party with all these great friends Saturday night and felt a little overwhelmed at the quality of the people I'm surrounded with these days. My birthday was much less stressful and more peaceful than I had built it up to be and our events in New York were hectic but really fun. A couple of other sort of personal things happened in NYC that surprisingly enough I'm not going to spill for the whole internet to see but were helpful in realizing that sometimes I really do grow from difficult experiences. Then I landed in San Francisco and got to hang around all day with Emily who I miss desperately. We had dinner with Miss Betsy who I don't see enough of but love. And then the next day, those delightful creatures from college showed up and we laughed and talked and remembered and laughed some more while we shopped and ate and stayed up late. I went back to the Kane's on Saturday night to meet up with Corey and get ourselves ready for the next morning and it occurred to me-what am I trying to prove here? That I'm happy? That I can do hard things? That I am in good shape? That being 30 doesn't mean I'm old? And I guess I just realized that I know all those things, I feel all of those things, and what I really wanted to do the next day was have a lot of fun. And my poor little brain was so full of work and friends and excitement and plans and ideas and feelings that there just wasn't room for 26.2. So I ran a half marathon. And I enjoyed every single mile-I got a special kick out of attacking one that almost killed me on a bike when I was in SF this summer. I thought of a million things I want to do in the next year-the Wasatch Back Relay and LOTOJA with my family, an Iron Girl triathlon, an ocean swim race. I thought about getting better at tennis and taking a knitting class and learning to cook instead of eating out all the time. Of reading more and writing more and learning more about art and starting to go to shows again and not letting myself get so stressed out about boys, and getting to Utah a little bit more often to visit. I thought about all the ways I am so blessed and the responsibility that comes along with all of that. And I visited with other runners and enjoyed spectacular views of a city I love. I ran into a couple of friends at the start and the finish. I blasted Diana Ross and the Supremes and sang along for the last half mile. I got a Tiffany's necklace from a firefighter in a tux at the finish line. Emily met me at the finish line and we cheered for Corey when she finished (all 26.2-because she rocks). We spent the afternoon in that loft I'm in love with and then had a nice drive home where I finally got in my OWN bed with my own sheets and my own pillows and fell asleep listening to the ocean out my window. It really was a perfect day. And the most perfect first week of my thirties I could have imagined.

And that ain't half bad.