Two, nearly three, years ago I decided to start running again. When I was running in 2014, I never ran more than 3.5 miles. I had no desire to do anything longer. Then Charlotte and Richard, two of my best friends and the ones who can talk me into just about anything, invited me to come down to Houston to do the Houston Half 10K. There were months and months until the 10K so I was certain I could do it. I blew through the training plan in a month or two, and I started to wonder – could I run a half marathon?
The Houston Half will always have a place in my heart because 8 months after I started running, I finished my first half marathon along with Charlotte and Richard. Since then I’ve done upwards of 10 half marathons, and three of them have been the Houston Half in 2016, 2017, and 2018. Last Sunday to be exact.
Charlotte was still recovering from the Loony Challenge so she opted not to run this year, but Richard and I love traditions. We chatted on the plane about running (see yesterday’s terrifying post), and how neither of us were going to do well. He was recovering from the Loony Ultra Challenge and not only was I sick, but I’ve had this awful lingering hip pain since I overdid it on the release day for The Search for Sam so neither of us had run in at least 2 weeks. We went in with the goal of finishing.
Friends, it was bad. I made it about 7 miles before the pain was too much. I walked a large portion of the race, ran as much as I could, then was miserable in the sun for the last few miles. It was a new personal worst for both of us but we finished, ate our tacos Deadpool-style, and went for Mediterranean.
I’m terrified of what’s going to happen to me in January. I have 12 weeks to heal and train, and I’m doing stretches and anti-inflammatories. We’ll see how it goes.