Half Marathon, Whole Victory
By Carrie King on Wed, 09/26/2012 - 13:09
Carrie King tells her story of conquering self-doubt and insecurity, and successfully finishing her first half marathon.
Yesterday I ran my first half-marathon. It’s been on my “bucket list” for a long time, and I figured it was about time I checked it off.
The night before the race, I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned, thinking of all of the things that could go wrong. I worried that I’d sleep through my alarm, that I would get a cramp and have to stop and walk, that my time would be embarrassingly slow. I hated myself for signing up and wished I could be doing anything but running a grueling 13.1 miles in the morning. I regretted asking my family, boyfriend, and best friend to watch
me cross the finish line. My head hurt.
My alarm went off at 5:45am, and I jumped out of bed. My short hair looked
frumpy pulled into a tiny ponytail, and without makeup the bags under my eyes seemed
prominent. I pulled on my race shirt and felt self-conscious about the unforgiving way it
hung on my body. The running pants I chose made my legs look short. I was picking at
myself and bringing to light all of my insecurities, a habit of mine that happens when I
get scared or nervous.
When I arrived at the race alone, I felt awkward surrounded by people who looked like
they were pros. While I was wearing the free shirt given to me the day before by the
sponsors, others were sporting fancy specialized running shoes and clothes, doing
complex warm ups, and clearly confident.
When it finally began, I quickly attempted to find a comfortable pace. As my ipod blasted
in my ears, everyone else began to slowly fade away. As the miles went by, I was
surprised at my body for not tiring. By mile five, I was nearing the turnaround and
approaching what I knew would be the races biggest challenge—a massive hill that
seemed endless and totally impossible.
I decided to try something that I had done during my training to help get me through the
rough patches. As I climbed the hill, I focused on each part of my body and my muscles
individually. I thought about what they were each doing to help me, how it felt to push
with my calves and pull my body up and up one step at a time. I thought about my lungs
and their capacity to provide my body with oxygen. I thought about how my blood was
rushing to my head and my muscles to power me through. And I realized that when I
checked my watch, I was running a great deal faster then I’d predicted I would. So much
so, in fact, that I worried my friends and family would not be there to see me finish in
I came around the turnaround and began to make my way back, down the hill I’d just
conquered. The second half of the race flew by, and I didn’t care a bit about the way my
hair looked, or how flushed and sweaty I appeared. I couldn’t have cared less about my
clothes, because my skin wasn’t chafing and my shoes were not giving me blisters. The
strong, powerful legs that I’d worked for pushed me through the race, and endorphins
were kicking in as the finish line neared. I picked up my pace for one last push. Rounding
the corner before the finish, I saw a board flash a time of just over two hours. Panicking, I
realized that because I’d given myself so little credit and told my parents not to come
until later, no one would be there to meet me.
To my surprise, that was when I heard my name. Right by the finish line, everyone I’d
invited was cheering me on, holding up cameras and clapping for me. I crossed the line at
two hours and one minute, a solid half an hour earlier than I’d predicted for myself. I felt
great. I was proud of my sweaty face and my frizzy hair. I felt such a huge sense of pride
and accomplishment, and I’m already looking forward to finding my next race.