Over the last six years I've learned how to do a lot of things by myself. I've lived by myself off and on for years, I always travel and shop solo and today I ran my first half marathon by myself.
And it wasn't nearly as difficult as I thought it would be. I mean, it was difficult because I had a massively upset stomach the entire time, but nothing that a running partner would help. In fact, the first eight miles were fantastic and my body still feels really good. It was the second half that was difficult both physically and mentally to get through. But I finished. And it wasn't my worst time. I didn't set a personal record, but there are always a number of circumstances one can't control during a race.
What stinks is that I'm now home alone. My sick running partner, who had planned on running the race with me up until yesterday afternoon, was kind enough to come out, cheer me on, take pictures and drive me home. But that's about as exciting as it got today.
Running 13.1 miles is an insane experience and an incredible adrenaline rush. In fact, I couldn't even take a nap today because my heart was still pounding hours later. Sometimes I have that tree falling in the woods feeling. If a tree falls in the woods and nobody's there to hear it, does it still make noise? Am I making any noise?
I've long since given up trying to get my father to acknowledge my victories. But it would help if someone would remember without me having to tell them a thousand times. I feel like I've spent the last month fighting. I took two finals, wrote two group papers, gave two presentations, trained for and ran a half marathon, battled a sinus infection, hopped on four flights to see my family for 72 hours, bought everyone's Christmas presents and I won. I f*ing did it!
And I need a hug. But instead, my family is thousands of miles away decorating the Christmas tree without me, nobody will return my texts or phone calls, and I'm eating pizza alone. I've painted my nails, read my book, watched my DVR and even curled my hair out of a combination of both frustration and boredom. Sundays are typically hard around these parts, but the combination of coming down from the adrenaline rush, being homesick and not having any homework to do is a difficult combination.
I've long since given up trying to get my father to acknowledge my victories. But it would help if someone would remember without me having to tell them a thousand times. I feel like I've spent the last month fighting. I took two finals, wrote two group papers, gave two presentations, trained for and ran a half marathon, battled a sinus infection, hopped on four flights to see my family for 72 hours, bought everyone's Christmas presents and I won. I f*ing did it!
And I need a hug. But instead, my family is thousands of miles away decorating the Christmas tree without me, nobody will return my texts or phone calls, and I'm eating pizza alone. I've painted my nails, read my book, watched my DVR and even curled my hair out of a combination of both frustration and boredom. Sundays are typically hard around these parts, but the combination of coming down from the adrenaline rush, being homesick and not having any homework to do is a difficult combination.
