The Day I Ran 13.1

How running a half-marathon helped me become someone I never thought I could be

When I first decided to change my life and finally lose weight 18 months ago, all I could think about was getting thin. I just didn’t want to be fat anymore. Nothing else mattered.

Then, a few months later, after dropping a lot of the weight, something shifted. It was the summer of 2012. I didn’t just want to be skinny anymore — I wanted to be fit. I wanted to be strong. I wanted to do something amazing, something remarkable… something I never thought someone like me could do.

That was when I set a new goal: to run a half-marathon.

This dream came from a girl who couldn’t run for more than 10 seconds. I have no idea why I believed I could do it — but I did. And on July 20, 2013, 18 months and 117 pounds later… I did.

“Of course it’s hard. It’s supposed to be hard. If it were easy, everybody would do it. Hard is what makes it great.” — A League of Their Own

Nothing about running this half-marathon was easy. Not the weight loss. Not the early mornings. Not the aching legs, the grueling training, or the moments of doubt. So many times, I questioned myself:
You’re not an athlete. You never have been. That’s not you.

But here’s what I learned: you don’t need natural talent to do something great. You just need the audacity to try, and the grit to keep going.

“Take pride in how far you have come. Have faith in how far you can go.”

The official race was 13.1 miles — but the longest run I did leading up to it was just 9.3 miles during a 15K. In the months before the race, most of my runs were 6 miles, with a few 8 milers sprinkled in. And let me tell you: I felt like I was going to die during many of them.

But I kept going.

It’s still wild to me how much has changed. These days, I call a 6-mile run a “short” one. But not long ago, I was celebrating just one lap around the track. Then I celebrated my first mile. Then two. And now… 13.1.

It’s funny how quickly things can change. And it’s incredible what hard work can do. The fact that I can run at all is proof of that.

“Persistence supersedes talent, genetics, and luck. There can be no true success without it.”

When I really sit down and think about it — where I was, where I am now — it humbles me. I wasn’t fast. I wasn’t athletic. But I was determined. And that was enough.

During every run, I would picture myself crossing the finish line. Just the image of it would bring tears to my eyes. That moment — me, finishing a half-marathon — felt so far away, but so real. I knew I’d get there. It was just a matter of when.

And every time I thought I couldn’t take another step, I’d return to that finish line in my mind. That finish line became my fuel.

“The real purpose of running isn’t to win a race. It’s to test the limits of the human heart.” — Bill Bowerman

Race day was a whirlwind of emotions.

The first four miles felt strong — easy, even. I waved to my aunt with a big smile as she filmed me near mile one. I felt confident, even fast.

But things changed.

By mile eight, my legs were lead. I gagged on water at the aid station — drank too quickly, nearly threw up. The walking breaks became more frequent. My body screamed. I started to question everything. Why did I sign up for this? Why had I thought this was a good idea?

“It’s very hard to understand in the beginning that the whole idea is not to beat the other runners. Eventually you learn that the competition is against the little voice inside you that wants to quit.” — George Sheehan

Still, I kept going.

Because in between the pain and doubt were reminders of why I was doing this. The faster runners — the ones effortlessly speeding by — shouted encouragement as they passed. Volunteers handed me water with smiles and kind words.

At one point, my favorite running song — “Good Feeling” — came on my iPod, and I found a second wind. I picked up the pace, singing in my head, remembering all the runs I’d trained to that beat.

I laughed with another runner when I asked where mile 10 was — and she told me I’d already passed it. The sign had fallen down. That moment? Relief. Double digits were behind me.

And in the final mile, my friend and running mentor, Missy — who had already finished — came back to find me and ran by my side.

And then… I heard my name. I saw my family. I crossed the finish line.

“It was being a runner that mattered, not how fast or how far I could run. The joy was in the act of running, and in the journey, not in the destination.” — John Bingham

This race was the hardest thing I have ever done physically. Running for over three hours… it stopped feeling like a run and started feeling like a journey.

There were so many ups and downs — emotionally, physically, mentally. It felt like I was out there forever. And in a way, I was.

But I want to remember it all.

My 13.1 shirt from my parents!

I want to remember carb-loading the night before, and also laughing that morning when I realized I’d eaten spicy chili and might regret it (I didn’t, thankfully). I want to remember curling up in bed the night before, watching Running on the Sun, feeling like it was Christmas Eve.

I want to remember nervously lining up at the starting line for the “early start” — the special 30-minute head start for slower runners. I want to remember the moments it started to drizzle and I instinctively ran faster to try and beat the rain.

I want to remember the sense of community — how the fast runners never looked down on the slow ones. They cheered us on. Encouraged us. Treated us as equals.

I want to remember the runs I completed, and even the ones I skipped. I want to remember how hard I worked, how tired I was, and how badly I wanted it.

“People are capable, at any time in their lives, of doing what they dream of.” — Paulo Coelho

More than anything, I want to remember that moment I crossed the finish line.

It was the moment I made my dream come true. The moment I stopped being a reluctant runner and became a half-marathoner. The moment I’d been chasing for a full year — through sore ankles, side stitches, early mornings, skipped runs, and all the self-doubt in between.

That moment made it all worth it.

“No matter how slow you go, you are still lapping everybody on the couch.”

Let’s talk numbers. I finished the race in 3 hours and 7 minutes. That’s not a competitive time. The winners completed the course in just over an hour. I came in second to last out of more than 400 runners.

And you know what? I never cared. Not for a single second.

Because finishing near the end is better than never finishing at all — and a million times better than never starting. I had the courage to begin… but more importantly, I had the grit to see it through.

“Start by doing what is necessary, then do what’s possible, and suddenly you’re doing the impossible.” — St. Francis of Assisi

Someday, I’ll run a full marathon. Toward the end of this race, I told Missy I couldn’t imagine doubling what I had just done — but once upon a time, I couldn’t imagine running a half either. And here I am.

For now, my goal is to run another half-marathon and finish in under three hours. After that, who knows?

But today, I’ll just bask in it — the sweat, the struggle, the story.

I set out to do the impossible.
And then, mile by mile, I did.

Me, 117 pounds lighter, medal in hand, and a dream realized.