But I’ll feel like friends all around the country will be celebrating with me as they run their scheduled events. Besides Marilyn and Juanita, Melissa, Julia, Jennifer, and Beth are all running May 6 races! And, yes, I’m aware they’re not actually running in honor of my birthday, but I’m excited for them nonetheless!

Many of those on my 2012 virtual training partner list have their races right around the corner. And for most, this is their first marathon or half marathon ever.  For those of us who are veteran runners (I can hardly believe I put myself in that category, but I suppose I must at this point), it can be hard to remember how incredibly difficult and painstaking the training was, how frightened we were that we wouldn’t make it to the starting line (or even if we made it that far, could we get to the finish line?). It may have slipped our minds how we fought for every step during that first race and then how we cried crossing the line for the first time. Do you remember the sweet smell of the first medal ever hung around your neck? Or the way you searched the website after the race to find your name, just to prove you’d really done it?

May and June are heavy marathon months. What are your words of advice or encouragement for those undertaking their first big race? And if you’re doing your first marathon, half marathon, 10K, 5K, or even your first mile, what are you thinking, worrying, and excited about?

The show was a blast. Makeup and hair by Maria and Giselle… then a pre-interview by Kim… Sasha for making sure I was where I needed to be when I was supposed to be there… and then a glorious moment of TV fame (watch on May 1 if you want to catch the interview).

Because everything happened so quickly, I was not as organized as I like to be when I travel. Thankfully, friends on the East Coast pitched in to make my travels easier and happier. Stacy and Mark offered to house me during my hectic schedule; my wonderful agent, Pamela, dined me and helped me navigate the city; and Jason and Mike, old friends (though not really any older than I), delighted me with their company.

And then it was time to move on. Since I was already on the East Coast, I felt it only made sense to come visit my friend, author and used book store owner, Wendy Welch. For four consecutive years I’ve made my way to Big Stone Gap, Virginia for a little time with Wendy and her husband Jack. Often, we spend a few days at her cabin in the woods in Tennessee, writing and sipping on marginal wine while we catch one another up on our lives. I was looking forward to seeing her for my fifth annual visit. But first I had to get to her.

Please don’t ask me why I chose the Greyhound Bus; it’s a long story having to do with the cost of airfare and the location of possible destination airports in relation to Wendy’s house and Wendy’s busy schedule and the departure times of potential flights. When all had been researched and mulled over, the Greyhound seemed like the best option—even though it meant sixteen hours of traveling. And please don’t ask me to tell you about the nasty bus driver who refused to open the luggage compartment on the bus where my suitcase sat waiting to be rescued and how I finally had to feign calling his supervisor in order to get him to comply with my request to let me retrieve my bag.

Instead let me tell you about the delightful young fellow who sat beside me most of the trip whom I quickly discovered was from Riberao Preto, the very city Bill’s Brazilian family lives in (what are the chances?)! Leandro was only 28, but he was a published author, a PhD candidate, interesting to talk to, and extremely cute to boot. The first part of my bus ride flew by as we shared some cheap Pinot Grigio (because Leandro said, “I do not know much about wine, but I do know that you should not drink it alone”) and talked about Brazil.

I finally arrived in Virginia on Saturday at about 3pm, grateful to no longer be rolling on wheels and looking forward to a good night’s sleep and a trip out to the cabin—which is where I am now.

Wendy is putting the finishing touches on her book (available on Amazon for pre-order) and I’m looking over the draft of the novel I wrote during November’s NaNoWriMo last year. It’s good to get away (although I’ve been loathe not to be able to check facebook and find out how Boston went for all my pals—I hope it was a good experience and that you made it through what I understand was a very warm morning).

More later when I’m back in the Northwest. Love to all.

What I love about Kathy is that she’s grabbing hold of life and squeezing the juice out of it. She says she wants to be “all used up” by the end of her life, and I understand that sentiment. Today I woke up with the same realization I have many mornings: This could be my last day. I’m not trying to be morbid, but we don’t have guarantees about how many days we get.

Here in Bellingham, there was a fire last week. A boathouse on the harbor burned down and took a number of vessels with it. On one of those boats lived two people I didn’t know, but they were friends of friends of mine and their deaths shook me. Along with everyone else in town, I wanted to hear that they hadn’t been on board when the fire struck. We hoped the fact that no one had heard from them didn’t mean they’d perished. But the news, when it came, wasn’t good.

This loss brought back vivid memories of the night my own house burned down when I was eleven. My family was lucky. The smoke woke us up, and although we couldn’t reach any of the doors to get out, we all managed to jump from windows (my brother from the second floor) and survived with only a bit of smoke inhalation. But it was close.

For me now, when I wake up in the morning, I strive for my day to be filled with what makes me feel vibrant and happy. I don’t achieve this every day–I’m sort of given to anxiety, blue feelings and dark thoughts (especially in the winter)–but like Kathy Martin, I’m racing the clock. How much more authentic can I learn to be before my time is up? How much can I learn about joy? How deeply can I connect with those who love me?

What about you? What makes you feel vibrant and happy? Is it a morning run? Holding your dog or cat on your lap? Watching your children sleep? Making cookies with your grandchildren? Is it eating good food? Creating a piece of art? Worshiping silently beside a still lake?

May you race the clock with your whole heart and squeeze out of life all it has to offer you.

I get a pretty constant stream of questions from non-runner friends about why I would sign up for an ultra. “It was hard enough to turn yourself into a marathoner,” they remind me. “Maybe,” they say gently, “you’ve proved your point. What do you have to gain from a 50K?” As I observed the dark, gray, solid sky while I waited to use the toilet once more (the last toilet I would see for a long, long time), I can’t say I had much of an answer to this question. All I know is that running is about stretching myself and growing as a person, and standing in the rain watching the first wave of runners start their journey at 8:00, knowing they would be finished before I’d made it halfway, I already felt stretched.

At 8:20, the third wave–the back-of-the-packers–were given the go-ahead. The first part of the Chuckanut 50K along the Interurban Trail was very familiar to me. More Saturdays than I can say, I’ve traversed this section of the route; I even direct a race that follows this course (the Wind Horse Run for Education). It was only when I had to turn up onto the Fragrance Lake Trail that I was in less familiar (although not totally unknown) territory. On a sunny day, the trail up to Fragrance Lake would be a refreshing little hike with the reward of a gorgeous hidden lake to linger beside. Saturday it was just the first big, muddy hill of many more to come.

As I began to navigate the switchbacks, the rain turned to snow–thick, heavy flakes that melted instantly on the skin. I’d started the race with a fellow who told me he was going to turn around at the first sight of snow, no matter how far he’d gone. Here, only about six miles into the race, when the white stuff came down, my amigo was true to his promise. I watched from above as he stopped at the switchback just below me, turned around and headed back down the hill. I waved to him and pressed on just as a clump of snow shook loose from a high branch and fell inside my raincoat collar and down my neck. There was no time to indulge in the misery of the icy trickles making their way down my shoulder; I had to make time here at the beginning of the race because I knew once I got into the wooded 7-mile loop starting on the ridge a little later on, it could be slow-going. In training, Bill and I had completed every section of the route and calculated what my average pace would have to be for each if I wanted to finish in 8 hours.

A little more than an hour after the snow started, right on schedule, Bill was waiting at the next aid station at the base of the trail on Cleator Road. He walked several hundred yards with me, but not far enough to see that the higher up you went on this 3-mile winding hill, the more packed, icy snow was on the ground. Nearly 600 pairs of shoes had trampled the slush into a slippery mess. I trekked up with three other runners, Debbie (from Friday Harbor), Linda, and a man whose name I never caught. I was grateful for the company however short-lived it might be. Linda would drop out at the next aid station just before the rest of us turned onto the Chuckanut Ridge Trail. A marathoner bound for Boston in a couple of weeks, she dared not risk hurting herself in the river of mud that was before us.

Debbie and I would leapfrog each other on and off until Chinscraper, which lay about seven miles ahead. Most of that time, we wouldn’t be able to see one another, but it would be a comfort to know someone else was out there. Early on in the woods, before the mud was shin deep, Debbie came up behind me as I was pulling myself over a large boulder with the help of an exposed tree root, and asked if I knew how far we’d gone. I looked at my Garmin. We were halfway–15 miles behind us and 15 miles to go! This was a good omen, I thought. If I’d made it half way and still felt strong, I had a chance of making my 8-hour deadline.

But shortly after my brief conversation with Debbie, my legs began cramping. She ran ahead as I stopped to stretch. My left quad and right calf, unused to so much slipping and climbing, were angry. I was alone on the trail and, remembering Anne Lamott’s affectionate conversations with her thighs (which she calls “the aunties”), I spoke aloud to my legs, my only vehicles out of the forest. “Come on babies, you can do this. Just relax. We’ll get there.” And my dear, faithful limbs relaxed–for the time being.

How interminable and lonely that seven-mile loop felt! The mud was thick enough that I was never sure when I set my foot down whether I would hit solid ground, a rock, or a sink hole. On the descents, the mud trickled downhill in a stream. Keeping my eyes on the ground, I watched not only the placement of each footfall, but also the way the cold, wet mud seeped into the fabric on the top of my shoes. I wish I could say I was in a state of mind to reflect on how my laborious pace and tenuous stride might translate into a metaphor for my life outside of these woods, but there was no space in my brain for anything other than trying not to fall. When it began to hail, I laughed aloud and shouted, “Of course! Why not?”

When the next aid station finally came into view (more than two hours since Linda had dropped out), it was like an oasis in the desert: civilization, complete with electrolytes and potato chips. I was so grateful to see human beings–but these human beings had bad news for me.

“You’ve got an hour to get to the last aid station before it closes,” one of the volunteers announced.

“What do I need to do between now and then?” I asked.

“Four miles. One up and three down,” was the reply.

“Okay. What happens if I don’t make it?”

“They’ll give you a ride back. Better get a move on.”

This must have been around mile 21 when I received the news that I needed to pick up my pace. And directly in front of me was Chinscraper,  a mile of steep switchbacks and one almost vertical smooth dirt hill, which would certainly be nothing but mud. By this point, my GPS had stopped working, but as soon as I left the volunteers, I knew I wasn’t going to get to the next aid station in an hour. Every few steps my left quad and right calf acted up. I simply had to stop and stretch, or at the very least let the pain pass.

As I grappled with Chinscraper, I asked myself what I was going to do when I finally reached the next station. I could quit if I needed/wanted to. I would have run the equivalent of a marathon distance. Maybe I’m just not cut out for more than 26 miles, I thought to myself. But my friend, Julie, was waiting for me there to help me run the last six miles. And Bill was there with food and dry clothes, ready to cheer me onward. My other friend, Stephanie, was stationed at the end of Arroyo Park to take my picture if I ever got that far. Would I let them all down if I quit?

On the other hand, maybe it would be easier for everyone if I just gave up and we could all go get a beer. The finish line would be disassembled by now anyhow. Even the awards ceremony would be starting before too long. I have to admit, the chorus in my head asked again what there was to prove here–and I couldn’t come up with an answer.

But I’d come so far I knew I had to finish, even if my few faithful friends and I were the only ones who knew I’d done it.

So up, up I inched, taking a few steps up the worst of the muddy rise and then sliding backwards in the mud just as far. I did it again. And again. Until I finally conquered the mud and the worst of the ascent.

Out of the woods at last! Now all that was left was to descend three miles to the aid station in the Clayton Beach parking lot and then somehow propel myself forward for six more miles after that to the finish line, located at Fairhaven Park. Although I ran the whole of the three miles down to Clayton Beach, I reached it well after it was supposed to have closed. As I arrived, I blessed the volunteers who’d stayed just a little longer than they were required to and then greeted my little “team.” Bill took my dirty gloves and gave me a fresh pair and delivered a bag of greasy French fries to stave off hunger as we were now coming into the dinner hour. Then Julie took me in hand for the final miles, speaking to me as a mother might speak to a child just learning to ride a bicycle. “Just from here to that tree. There you go. You can do it.”

At 5:39pm, I crossed the finish line. Dear Krissy Moehl, with so much to do as a race director closing up an event, was standing by to record my time and gift me with my prize: a black beanie (which Bill later tried to steal, claiming he earned it more than I did even though it’s the only tangible proof I have that I completed the race). I hugged everyone and cried and stretched and breathed a deep sigh of relief. Finishing time: 9:19:40! I’m proud to say that mine is the last recorded.

The next day I stayed in bed. Bill says I “seemed confused” all day, which I probably was. Every muscle ached; my nose was badly chafed from all the blowing and wiping with soiled gloves; and I’d developed a mysterious soreness on the roof of my mouth (potato chip burn?) and couldn’t eat solids for two days. As I recover, I’m still mining the psychic riches of this experience. What did I learn about myself? Or my life? There’s something about loneliness, support from friends, perseverance, patience, joy in the midst of the mess that is life…. I’ll tell you as the insights crystallize.

In the mean time, the one thing I know is that it took a small village to get me to the finish line. Thank you to all who were there for me that day! (And Bill, go ahead and keep the beanie. You deserve it, my friend.)

First two pictures by Bill Pech, remaining photographs taken by Stephanie Bender of A Mere Glance Photograph.

Thanks for doing this interview, Leslie! Can you first talk about what made you decide you wanted to do a half marathon?

I saw on Facebook that you (Cami) were going to do the Tinkerbell half at Disneyland and thought that kind of race would be fun. At the time I’d just started a Couch to 5k program and couldn’t even run 2 miles, but I like a challenge, and I needed something to force me to workout while I travel the country with my family for a year.

How did you pick the one you did?

I was unable to sign up for the Tinkerbell half (in California) before it closed, so I looked at the Disney Princess half in Florida. I reasoned it would give me another month to train, and I had to be in Florida for a wedding anyway. I watched a runDisney video and saw people dressed in costume, the character photo ops, running through the castle–it looked like fun. When I could run only two miles, I signed up because the price was going up that weekend.

Talk about your training: How did you train? What worked? What would you do differently next time?

Jeff Galloway is the runDisney trainer so I followed his beginner program. I ran 30 minutes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. On Saturday I alternated 3 miles with increasing miles on the other weeks. It was a 21-week program, and I followed it to a T pretty much. I missed a couple of short weekday runs when I got a huge blister, but I trusted in the program and was impressed at how it worked to get me to the mileage I needed. I was really impressed each time I finished a long run. They weren’t all fabulous times, but I was growing and learning as I went. I ran six miles straight at a 16-minute pace and felt great. I thought, “Maybe I can do this.” I re-read through the training program, and Jeff Galloway suggests a combination of running and walking so you’ll have less fatigue, recover quickly, and reduce injuries. I thought this was just to use at the beginning, but Jeff uses it all the way through his marathons. I was hoping to go faster than 16 minutes per mile, so I looked at the run/walk combo to help me speed up. I didn’t ever really master it but have since learned more and will focus on the run/walk sequence for future runs.

Did you feel ready? What were your biggest fears going in?

I was excited for the race since it had been on my mind for months. I was excited to see the characters, get the shirt, go to the expo, etc., and then I realized–I have to run 13.1 miles! But I trusted in the training that I had completed and believed that I was ready. Disney has a minimum pace of 16 min/mile because they need to open the roads. If you don’t maintain that pace you will be swept so that was my biggest fear. They have a “balloon” lady that walks at that pace and warns you to speed up if you fall behind. They literally pull buses across the course and you have to get on if you don’t meet the time requirement.

Tell us about the race: What did you love? What was hard? What surprised you?

I loved the Disney experience! My race was like a Disney movie–a nice beginning, a scary middle, and a happy ending. The first six miles went quickly. Inside the Magic Kingdom it was fun to see my family, meet a bunch of characters, and run through the castle. I was relaxing and enjoying my time there. I debated about using the port o’ potty at one point because there wasn’t a line, but decided I didn’t have to go, so I’d keep running. Good thing I did because I heard mumbling about the balloon lady, looked around and found her in FRONT of me! She was saying there was a pick up at mile 8, so I hustled to get on the other side of her and stayed there. It made me nervous, though, and negative thoughts came to my mind–what if I didn’t get to finish? I’d have to tell everyone I didn’t complete the race. To battle my thoughts, I worked on positive mantras and a faster run/walk interval. I finally made it to mile 12 where I was safe from being swept, but the experience had become a race instead of a run for a few miles for me. That was hard.

What surprised me was my recovery. I felt great the next day and all the following days. The other thing that surprised me was that I actually did it. I trained for months, and I did it! I’m glad I have the pictures so show myself that that’s really me. For several days after the race, I couldn’t get over that fact that I did it.

Do you think you’ll ever do another one?

I’ve already signed up for the Disneyland half so I can earn the Coast to Coast medal by running a Disney half marathon on both coasts in one calendar year. I’m totally doing it for the medal! My friend signed up, so I’m looking forward to running with someone else this time; that’s going to make it more fun. I’m happy that I have this goal to focus on so that I don’t lose the conditioning I’ve built up. I’m working on speeding up my pace so that I can have more time on the course taking pictures with characters.

What are your hopes for future races?

I may try some of the other races that sound fun–Rock and Roll, Get Your Rear in Gear, and Color Run.  I enjoy triathlons, though, so I might do a combination of triathlons and half marathons/10k in the future. My overall goal is to be physically fit so that if something fun comes up, I’ll be able to do it.

What did you learn about yourself on this journey?

The first two miles are hard, and it gets easier after that. Running is mental–the challenge of running 3 miles is about the same as running 13 for me. I also learned that if I exercise in the morning before I turn the computer on I won’t have guilt for the rest of the day because I got my work out in. Most importantly, I learned to trust in the process and the program. I may be slow, but I’m determined and can reach the goals I set!

But today is also four days from the Chuckanut 50K (that’s 31.1 miles, friends). Did I mention I’ll be running it this year? Well, I am. And signing up for this race has given me occasion for all kinds of worry and fretting. As a back-of-the-packer, I’ll be out on the trails for approximately 8 (yes: eight) hours, while the elite ultra runners in the crowd (750ish strong) will finish in half that time.

Since Bill pushed “enter” on the sign-up form and committed me to this race, I’ve been planning and ruminating and crinkling my eyebrows about everything from what to wear to how much food to carry on the route. You wouldn’t think I’d be inclined to all this obsessing given the fact that I’m a veteran runner. I have, after all, run full marathons on every kind of terrain all around the world. I even completed the Lake Youngs 50K a couple of years ago–and felt good afterwards. In addition, this Chuckanut 50K course is in my back yard, so I’ve had the advantage of training on the trails and getting to know their quirks and switchbacks.

That may be the problem, actually. I’m well aware of the three miles straight up Cleator Road and about the “Chin Scraper” incline at the end of the 8-mile loop on Chuckanut Ridge. I know all about the lengthy stretch of mud I’ll have to plod through after 700 other sets of trail shoes have softened it to quick-sand quality (if you never hear from me again, you’ll know it sucked me under). Too much knowledge might not be a good thing….

Also, my last couple of long runs (and subsequent cramping and soreness) have reminded me that I’m not genetically inclined toward athleticism. Committed I am. Determined I am. Patient I am. Audacious I am. But alas, athletic I am not. I’ve always envied my friends who have slim, streamlined, muscular bodies which are seemingly made to cut through wind at clipped, brisk speeds. I just don’t have one of those bodies, and to get one, I’d have to commit more of my life to the gym than I have time or inclination to do. So, in this upcoming race (as with all of them) I’ll make the best of the one I have.

The best this body will do will be about eight hours.

“Why take part in something that creates so much fear and trembling? Something that you won’t be very good at and that will make you hurt for a week?” you ask.

These are fair questions. Here’s my best answer: I was raised to be “sugar and spice and everything nice.” Over the years I’ve discovered that this cleaned up version of self-hood is a very unsatisfying way of living. Gritty and messy and pushy enough to move beyond my own and my family’s narratives are much more interesting qualities to try to live up to. Why not do what is hard or even ridiculous sometimes? No matter how the 50K goes on Saturday, I’m going to grow as a person during those eight hours in ways that a year of therapy couldn’t expedite if I went three times a week (and I’m a therapist!). Running this race is actually a shortcut to self-actualization.

It should also be a great chance to get mud-suckin’ dirty!

I usually reserve my blog here exclusively for running-related news and reflections, but I thought some of you might like to know what else I’m up to.

1. I have some new services up on my CamiOstman.net site. These include newsletters, group coaching opportunities and something I call the Main Event–an intensive 6-week personalized course for those who feel they need to catch their own midlife second wind (whether you’re a runner or not).

2. I’m also very excited to share that I’ve started blogging for the Psychology Today blogger team! Visit often and see what we’re up to there! The Psychology Today website is packed full of helpful and rich information/encouragement.

3. If you live near me (or if you can get here easily), you might enjoy a terrific one-day retreat I do with my friends Eileen Laughlin and Carol Frazey called Refresh Your Bliss. When you need to reevaluate your priorities and reboot your self-care mechanisms, this retreat is an excellent chance to get away and Refresh Your Bliss. Our next one will take place on May 19 (right after Mother’s day). Check out the details at refreshyourbliss.org!

I’m also still doing individual therapy in person or by phone (206.890.8694). Let me know if I can be a resource to you. And keep running!

Cheers,
Cami

Relief
But brrrrr
Bounce, drip
Sniff
Sniffle
Wipe
Other side plugged,
She blows.

Only five hours to go.
Running is hard work for me…

2012 Training Partners Post-Race Interview with Julie Echols

Julie, this was your first half marathon! What made you decide you wanted to do one?

Encouragement from others!

How did you pick the one you did?

My sister (see below) picked it.  It was also a family vacation that we could enjoy (since it was in Disneyland).

Talk about your training: How did you train? What worked? What would you do differently next time?

I trained by running/walking each week.  I tried to run 4 times a week, devoting most of the weekends to running with my running partner, Sharon.  The long run on the weekend was always difficult but gratifying.  It was very challenging to fit running in during the week (since I work full time and have a family).  The most helpful and motivating element of training was having a training partner. (I highly recommend it!)

Next time I will make the week day runs a priority, but some of them will have to take place on a treadmill.

Did you feel ready? What were your biggest fears going in?

No, I didn’t feel ready.  I was sick the week prior and was unable to run.  I was afraid I would not finish.

Tell us about the race: What did you love? What was hard? What surprised you?

The race was overwhelming.  This was a huge event with 12,000 athletes.  I wasn’t worried about finishing the race until I saw the magnitude of this big event.  It made failing to finish the race seem like a total disaster.  If I had signed up to do a smaller no-frills event, I might have felt differently the night before.  I certainly would have slept better.

The course was filled with fun activities, music, hoopla… but it was surreal.  At the beginning of the race I was engaged with the sunrise, the Disney characters, and my surroundings.  As the day went on I was so unfamiliar with the course and my location I became robotic as I ran.

The hardest part was dealing with dehydration.  Usually when I run I start to feel good around mile 3.  This time, at mile 3 I was totally spent.  I had cotton mouth, weakness and dizziness.  I had to resort to walking far more than I had planned.  I was disappointed in my performance.

I was surprised at the feeling when I was finished.  I felt more relieved than elated.  I was also surprised at how fast I recovered.  I was sore in the evening, but by the next day much of my soreness was gone and I didn’t have hardly any pain.

It was surprising to me how other people reacted.  Many people felt like I had accomplished something monumental.  While I certainly did feel that way, it wasn’t as gratifying as some of my training runs due to my performance.  I am still processing those emotions and thoughts.

Do you think you’ll ever do another one?

Yes, already signed up (for the Happy Girls Half with Sharon).  I have some unfinished business.

If so, what are your hopes for future races?

I hope to be more prepared, to run more in my training, to be hydrated, and to enjoy it more.

What did you learn about yourself on this journey?

The week by week training was really satisfying and provided instant gratification.  Adding a mile each week was proof I could achieve the goal.  I am still chasing the deep sense of satisfaction I thought I would get by finishing the race.   In this instance, the journey was much better than the finish line.

A huge thank you to Julie for agreeing to be interviewed! Julie, I really appreciate you sharing the difficulties you had because long races really can be tough. They push us beyond our known limits and that doesn’t always feel good. Still, you pressed through extreme physical discomfort and crossed the finish line with determination to do it again.

You also bring up a good point about the size of the first race. For some people these big events are the perfect choice, but they can be daunting for others. Thanks again for giving us some food for thought.

2012 Training Partners Post-race Interview with Sharon Young:

Sharon, thanks for agreeing to share your journey with us! First of all, can you tell us what made you decide you wanted to do a half marathon?

Last year one of my new year’s goals was to run a 5K. Shortly after I finished the Big Backyard 5K in May, I saw Cami’s post about the Tinker Bell Half Marathon. Nothing draws me in so swiftly as the possibility of a trip to Disneyland and the promise of bling—in this case the bling came in the shape of shiny golden wings surrounding one adorable pixie—Tinker Bell!

How did you pick the one you did?

Did I mention the medal?

Talk about your training: How did you train? What worked? What would you do differently next time?

In order to meet my 5K goal, I had already started training. This put me at three miles as my starting base distance. I looked up some training plans online, but essentially I ran shorter runs during the week and each week of training tried to add one mile to my long runs. This worked well, but I must say it was very helpful to have a training partner. I asked (read: whined a little, cajoled, enticed with promises of Disneyland fun and Tinker Bell bling) my sister if she wanted to run it with me. She agreed, and we trained together. We kept each other accountable and ran together each weekend. Also helpful—having more seasoned runners as friends. I talked strategy and training with them, and asked questions about nutrition, hydration, race expectations, etc. One thing I would change—I didn’t have the opportunity to train in warmer weather, which impacted my race a bit. I decided not to wear my water belt, and I wish I would have. I think it would have been helpful to know ahead how the warmer weather would affect me, but it’s all part of being new at something—experience teaches you.

Did you feel ready? What were your biggest fears going in?

I definitely felt ready. My biggest fear was being swept from the course. I am a slow runner, and happily run at my slower pace. The pace issue only became an issue when I saw there was a time limit on the course. Further on in my training I did some speed work to increase my pace, and was pretty pleased with the progress. But still, I did worry about the sweepers pulling me—kicking and screaming—off the course, which of course would mean no bling. Second biggest fear—no bling!

Tell us about the race: What did you love? What was hard? What surprised you?

The race was wonderful. Okay, it was work, but secondarily it was wonderful! The Tinker Bell Half Marathon was a perfect selection for my first half marathon. The course was flat and dotted with Disneyland landscape and characters, music, cheer squads, and fellow runners decked out in tutus and wings. It was very exciting to be part of the energy and atmosphere. Also, it came with an unexpected bonus. I am a big LOTR fan (duh-Lord of the Rings), and it turned out Sean Astin (aka Samwise Gamgee) ran with us. Way, waaayyyy ahead of me, but still… sort of cool.

One thing that was both difficult and fabulous was the weather. Training in Seattle it was cold and clear, wet and dreary, and even snowy. One thing it was not—sunny and warm. My weather research told me to expect highs in the upper 60’s and lows in the upper 40’s—not bad for transitioning from the Seattle damp. What we actually got was a few perfect days in the high 70’s. I swear it might have even reached 80 degrees! I was in Disneyland much of the day before the race, and although I drank tons of water I just did not drink enough or—as Cami told me later—have enough salt. I went into the race slightly dehydrated, and I spent much of the race trying to catch up on the hydration. Several miles into the race I asked myself—Do you want to keep your current pace and try for a good finish time (dropping on the course and leaving without your medal) or do you want to slow down and finish? There was no contest. I wanted my medal and I wanted to finish. So, I slowed my pace, and finished a little outside of my projected time AND happy I did what I needed to take care of myself.

At the end, and in the days that followed, I had only mild soreness in my shins and quads. I was very pleased with how my body preformed, and proudly wore my medal throughout Disneyland. The Disneyland crew were awesome—congratulating us when they saw the medal. It was a great experience.

Do you think you’ll ever do another one?

Yes, it’s already in the planning stages.

If so, what are your hopes for future races?

I hope to continue to develop my fitness level and running pace. And I hope to find fun races to run on interesting courses. I’d love to convince some of my family and friends to runlikeadiva with me!

What did you learn about yourself on this journey?

I learned how strong and determined I can be. I already knew this about myself, but discovered it in a new way. I realized that, although I sometimes waver about making them, once I make a decision about something I move forward and make it happen. I learned that I love the feeling of—I did that! Wow am I tough!

A huge thanks to Sharon for agreeing to be interviewed and also for sharing her first half marathon with me. Sharon’s sister, Julie, also ran her first half marathon with us and later this week, I’ll post my interview with her. To all of you out there who are in training and looking forward to your respective events, keep up the good work! Whatever our pace, we’re in this together.