I had forgotten how much I loved that feeling. Craved that feeling. The one where you can feel the finish line pulling in you faster, stronger to cross over it. That feeling of giving everything you have, wondering how you will ever make it. And then it hits you. This rush, it sends tingles all through my body and forces my mouth into a smile. This is the moment I love running for. It’s a high, a rush, this adrenaline. It happens again when you are approaching the finish line. Even though you have given everything you have, somehow your mind makes up for the lacking and you propel yourself through it trying to drink it all in. Not the crowd, or even the clock. It’s that power. The feeling that you pushed and worked hard enough. You finished.
I have always been a runner. I have always loved it. But you might recall last January, I ran a race my mind and body wouldn’t soon forget. 13.2 excruciating miles without proper training. It was awful. I hated running that day. I wondered when that would wear off and I would hit the pavement again. Today is 7 months. I can honestly say I hadn’t felt that tingle, that drive to run for 7 months.
Today I felt it. It was somewhere deep inside that I felt that urge. To get home as fast I could, and get on the treadmill. And I ran. For a whopping mile, before I puked. The assumption that a couple miles would feel great was quite short lived. I ran one more mile and vowed to do better tomorrow. I know I will get there. I miss that wonderful sweaty feeling of adrenaline flowing through my veins. And I will run that half marathon again in January. And this time I’ll be ready.