Yesterday I ran 10 miles (16 kilometers for my Canadian friends).
I do not know that, had you asked me at the beginning of the year, I would have told you that this is a thing I would have ever contemplated running. Earlier this year, after I ran 7 miles (10 K), I would have told you no way.
So apparently I lied to myself?
Maybe. I had signed up with a friend to run it and something else came up and he decided he was unable to make the run. I was not going to let my registration fee go to waste.
When I run a race, I have only two goals. The first is that I complete the race. The second is that I run through the entire race. It does not matter how slow I go, only that I keep running.
The (somewhat) surprising thing about this race was how amazing supportive folks were that were not running the race. A grandmother who just randomly set up a water booth on the course. Kids who were cheering and ringing cowbells and giving high fives. The police in general, who are standing there for 3+ hours managing traffic - and in one case, an officer who helped to pull a stroller up a hill. And of course all the volunteers and support groups just there ringing cowbells and offering water and shouting their heads off.
The most difficult part? Actually, not the hills (not too many, but I am not a hill person). It was really miles 8 and 9 when I kept having to fight myself to stop from walking and keep running. I think mile 8 was so hard because it was the farthest I had ever gone, mile 9 because it was not mile 10.
How did I do? 1 hour 51 minutes to complete the course, average mile of 11:06 Not bad for 50 years old. I ran it in a kilt because I promised my friend I would, and I ran the whole race - perhaps very slowly at points, but I kept running?
Will I run so far again? My brain says no, but my heart is already thinking "You know, a half marathon is only 3 miles farther...."