It's the last week of preschool, I've got two jobs almost every day this week, and I haven't had a chance to really even breathe since getting back in town on Monday. So...this is the only blog post I'm probably going to do this week. In fact, my blogging schedule is probably going to be messed up for most of the summer, if I even manage to blog at all. I'm moving soon and don't really even know where I'm moving...
But this is what I did with my weekend:
My goal for the half-marathon: a time under 2 hours and 40 minutes (I would have gladly accepted 2:39:59)
My actual time: 2 hours 27 minutes 51 seconds.
I was stunned. In fact, I still am.
Now, lots of runners can run 13.1 miles in under 2.5 hours. In fact, the people who won the half-marathon in which I participated ran it in under 1.5 hours. But for me, Pansy Runner, this was an accomplishment--especially considering I was still feeling a little sick. I didn't realize I was still feeling a little sick until during/after the race. After crossing the finish line, I was ridiculously happy to meet up with my new BFF, the port-a-potty (I was too stubborn to stop and use one along the race course, even though I could have used one around mile 6). When I got back to my sister's house, I took a shower, got dressed, started seeing black spots, got a killer headache, nearly passed out, and just generally thought I was going to die. Then I puked my guts out, took a two hour nap, and felt much better.
Would I do it all over again?
It was a great experience (sans the post-race port-a-potty and puke party). The scenery and weather were beautiful. And God enabled me to do something that I would have never even thought about doing a year and a half ago. Training has made my muscles stronger, but I'm not really that strong. My only hope has ever been and ever will be that "God has chosen the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God has chosen the weak things of the world to shame the strong" (1 Cor. 1:27).
I'mma keep boasting in Him.