numero 3.

Consider it crossed off.

Painfully, crossed off. 

Where should I begin on this one?

Prior to the big day, I was running the whole 3.1 pretty easily.  NO WALKING.

That being said...let's get to the meat of this story.  The scene: Saturday morning, Fenton City Park. 

First, I was pleasantly surprised to see my old chum from back in the day, Katie. 

We went the whole 'life after high-school route' that so many of us take.  Different universities, different cities, different lives.  Fork in the road stuff.  Then came the husbands, careers, kids.  Then, suddenly, you find yourself right back to the beginning.  We're settled in the same city, we're both moms to young ones (she has beautiful 9 month old twins), we both have similar interests, and wicked senses of humor.  Just 2 radical people who found each other once again. 

Anywho, she just finished her first half-marathon last week and thought she'd help me on my running journey.  Or, maybe she just thought she'd show me up.  :)  Either way, it was good to see her, and as much as I thought I wanted to go it alone, it was just what I needed. 

So, we approached the start (there was about 60-70 runners) near the back.  I couldn't find my slip to hand the race officials when (or if) I crossed the finish, and before I knew it everyone was taking off.  I started way too fast (for me), and thought with Katie being there I could hot dog my way through it.  Needless to say, by mile 2 I wanted to die.  Ask her.  She will tell you.  It was pathetic.  Really.  I walked a bit, which, is really a big mistake because it's just that much harder to start running again.  I also said a few choice R-rated words.  Not to mention, it was UNSEASONABLY warm.  I think it was about 80 degrees, and I should've taken off my running tights before we started, but I guess I was thinking it felt so hot because it's been so cool.  Yeah, I was wrong.  Because, folks, it was HOT, and there wasn't much shade along the trail. 

The run itself was pretty bad.  It was like a wild hippopotamus in black tights meandering through suburban terrain fleeing from a hunter with an AK-47 Russian assault rifle.  I wanted to run fast and smooth, but under the weight of 3 tons in the blazing sun it was, really, just too much.

Here's the deal...I could give you every excuse I want to about how or why I didn't do as good as I would have hoped, the heat, my cough, the wheezing I woke up with, blah, blah, blah, but the fact of the matter is that I did it, and I finished.  I ran 90% of the way (maybe a bit more), and I finished.  That's really what's important.  Right?

So, why do I keep going over all of the things that I could have done differently or better, or how I wished I would've kicked it up a notch to beat the two girls in front of us?  I'm not sure.  And in all honesty, what can I do now?  Being obsessive over stupid cr*p is really just ridiculous.  Can you think of a worse way to be? 

The point is this.  I finished.  Sure it wasn't as fast, or graceful, or as pretty as I would have like it to have been.  But, I finished. 

I finished. 

So, number 3 on the list is, officically, crossed off.  Incidentally, Katie will be helping me with #13 VERY SOON.  Scary.  I know.

Oh, yeah, and here are the photos to prove it...