What’s 13.1 miles, really ?
liaokong/liaokong
1. Wake up at 6 a.m. Race day.
2. Stay in bed for about 10 minutes and obsess over just how much you are not ready for this.
3. Consider how bad it would be if you texted the friend you're racing with to say, you know what, never mind.
4. Begrudgingly get dressed.
5. Walk aimlessly around your apartment.
6. Leave your apartment and come back.
7. Get back in bed with your sneakers on and nudge your boyfriend, saying, "I think I'm not going to do it."
8. When he doesn't wake up to convince you otherwise, text your mom and say the same. "I haven't run in two months," you remind her.
9. Get an onslaught of inspirational mom texts. FIIIINE. You'll do it.
10. Run out to get a cab. You're going to be late!
11. Go through security and start to catch that RACE-DAY RUSH.
12. Text your friend, "Are you here? It's AMAZING," as if you've been pro-race all along.
13. Head to your corral and squeeze in with the rest, trying to look like you belong.
14. Figure you might as well stretch a bit. That's what everyone else seems to be doing.
15. Waffle in your appraisals of those around you: You're in just as good shape as all of them! They don't look THAT impressive! No, wait, just kidding, they're all Olympic athletes and you are wee Tiny Tim.
16. Find your friend, against all odds, and talk about how crazy this is.
17. Consider making a last-minute run to the bathroom, but decide against it. You peed before you left. Whatever.
18. Walk slowly with the group to the start line. It's almost go time!
19. Realize that the start line is basically whenever the group starts slowly running, and suspect that this whole thing might be a little anticlimactic.
20. Clear the first mile like it's NOTHING. You're flying! The adrenaline rush is real! You will finish this race in record time!
X-Filme Creative Pool / Via collection-of-gifs.tumblr.com
21. Weave in and out of fellow racers with your friend, feeling on top of the world.
22. High-five the spectators on the side and decide, with conviction, that these are the true heroes.
23. Grab some water from the tables and hold onto the cup for longer than you mean to. Is it really OK to just THROW them on the ground?
24. Feel like your legs are basically one with the air. Seriously, why were you even worried?
25. Make your way through the first hill mostly unfazed. Maybe you're slowing down? Nah.
26. Lose track of your friend somewhere between mile three and mile four, and wistfully wave good-bye to her shrinking figure in the distance. "Godspeed," you whisper-gasp.
27. Succumb to the need for music and put in your headphones, even though the pre-race FAQ packet highly discouraged it. You need Beyoncé in this moment.
28. Just you and Beyoncé, killing it. Who runs this race? You.
29. Start to get a liiiiittle nervous about how winded you're feeling at mile six. Tell yourself you'll allow a bit of walking at mile seven, if you really absolutely need it.
30. Miraculously, right before mile seven, find a little girl who's holding a sign that says, "Touch here for power." Touch the sign, shed a few tears, and continue running. NOT TODAY, HALF MARATHON. NOT. TODAY.
31. Embrace your second wind as you fly down the highway. Realize it's actually kind of cool to run down a highway.
32. Look around and take it in: Wait, you know what, this is all really beautiful.
33. Consider grabbing a Gatorade instead of water at the rehydration booths, but decide against it when you remember the "nothing new on race day" mantra.
34. Realize at mile nine that you are entering the uncharted territory of "farther than you've ever run." Feel immediately crushed by this realization. How could you possibly run even one more step?
35. But you do, for another mile.
36. Pull into the Port-a-Potty at mile 10 and immediately regret the decision. Have Port-a-Potties always been just little cubicles filled with shit and you've never noticed, or are these just special race day Port-a-Potties?
37. Figure out that one thing that's harder than running for 10 miles is running 10 miles, stopping, and then willing your body to start again.
38. Wonder if your sunscreen is wearing out, because it's starting to feel like you're burning.
39. Except you can hardly tell, because you're so consumed by the throbbing of your feet.
40. Suddenly begin hating every song on your dumb playlist and switch to This American Life. These stories will carry you through the next 3.1 miles.
41. Suddenly begin hating every person telling their dumb stories. None of these stories will make you stop thinking about the quickly intensifying pain in your thighs. And your feet. And your back. And everywhere.
42. Pull your earbuds out. You'll focus on your surroundings, and glean strength from those high-fives.
43. Hahahaha just kidding, everything is awful, there is no relief.
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