3.1 Miles of Pure Stubbornness

So I did it. I ran my first 5K this morning and lived to tell about it.

3.1 Miles of Pure Stubbornness

Twenty-eight minutes and thirty-four seconds of pure determination mixed with questioning all my life choices.

Did I train properly? Absolutely not. Did I have any idea what I was doing? Zero. Did I pass at least twelve people who looked like they run marathons for fun? You bet I did. Marcus was waiting at the finish line with Sophie in the stroller, and I’m pretty sure I scared some small children with my victory yell.

The best part? I spent the last mile thinking about how I wanted to quit, how my legs hurt, how I was definitely going to walk the rest of the way. And then I didn’t. I kept running because apparently I’m more stubborn than I am tired. Who knew?

Now I’m sitting here with my finisher medal (yes, everyone gets one, no I don’t care) and already looking up the next race. Marcus thinks I’ve lost my mind. He’s probably right. But I ran 3.1 miles without stopping, I have a two-year-old who thinks sleep is optional, and I’m pretty sure that means I can do anything.