How to Keep Going

I completed my tenth half-marathon last Saturday. Honestly, I could not have done a worse job. I was pathetic. I did not train enough. I felt sluggish. I finished with a below-average time, and after reviewing my race photos, I’m utterly embarrassed that I even participated. I’ve always told myself that when I’m neglecting exercise, I will “never regret it.” I regretted this race. Not because I couldn’t do it. I was physically capable of doing it. I regretted it because I forgot how much I actually enjoy running. By neglecting to train properly, I forced myself to have a bad time.

Life doesn’t afford us a lot of time to be ready for anything, though. I understand why I was not prepared for this race. Since my children were born, I’ve basically started living their lives instead of my own. It might sound like a complaint, but I see it more as an inevitable sea change in my life that needed to happen. I’m eternally grateful for having my world changed, my responsibilities heightened, and my soul enriched by parenthood.

That said, I can still be just as foolish as I was in my twenties and thirties. At mile eight, right after hitting the wall and throwing up, I was sure I wanted to stop running altogether as a hobby. I had a good decade-long run, but now I’ve just become too worthless, out of shape, and old.

Then I saw an old friend. He asked if I was alright. That was it. I wasn’t even alright, but just seeing someone at that point who cared about me raised my spirits significantly. The question then became, “When will I finish?” instead of “Will I finish?” I had my answer. Now.

I ended up at the finish line, Rush’s “Working Man” guiding my way. The vomiting continued, people swarmed, asked if I was alright, and offered bananas and Gatorade. I thanked them, lay in the grass, and smiled. Happy to be done and grateful for the chance to try again. Overjoyed to defeat doubt once again.