the one with the half marathon.

Happy Monday, friends! And yes - it is actually a happy Monday, because it's my wedding week!!!

This will be my very last post as a single lady, and I'm chalking it full of good vibes and motivation to get you through the week ahead. Let's talk about how I rocked the shit out of the Air Force half marathon this past weekend, shall we?

Yep, that's right. Despite having run one half marathon before, in January 2011, I felt like this was my first one. I'm in a totally different frame of mind now, and my lifestyle has changed so drastically that it's hard to compare this one to my first half. I was fortunate enough to run with my friend Kim over at Fabulous Fit Foodie, who provided such a good balance for me along the way. My official chip time was 2:32:56 - almost a full 30 minutes off my final time from my 2011 half. Winning? Yes, that's what winning looks like to me.

As for the race itself, here's a brief rundown of what goes through my head during each mile.

Mile 1: Alright, I'm off. I feel good and dear God I hope this damn rain stops. I didn't buy a $60 lululemon shirt just to slip and fall on my ass. Is my volume up enough? Are my running pants adjusted properly? WHY ARE ALL THESE PEOPLE IN MY WAY.

Mile 2: Okay, this is the groove/pace I'm used to. This I can do. Thank God for Kim, or else I'd already be bored. Who the hell put a massive hill during the second mile of a half marathon? This person should be shot, immediately. 

Mile 3: Pace yourself. Don't jump the gun - don't start off too quickly. You've got a lot of miles ahead of you. Don't burn out too quickly.

Mile 4: I'm a full 5k into this race - awesome! One fourth of the way done, almost. Time to pop some sports beans and convince myself they work (they actually do, but I always wonder). I can totally do a 5k 3 more times. I GOT THIS.

Mile 5: My legs hurt. So does my stomach. Why did I insist on eating a banana this morning? I know I run better on an empty stomach, contrary to what's recommended. Ugh. Time to pop some Gu. Kim recommended peanut butter - it's not bad. But this is not peanut butter. Real peanut butter comes with sweatpants and crackers. I've been deceived. 

Mile 6: I feel good. This Gu really works. Except now I have peanut butter mouth. And my hips and legs are killing me. I vaguely remember the early parts of my running career, where it was stamina that caused me to burn out - not physical ability. Now, my lungs can run for days. It's my body that hates me. But we're just about halfway through! 

Mile 7: Okay, it's all downhill from here. Metaphorically. I know there's a hill coming up. But I'm more than halfway through, and Kim and I are rocking a totally kickass pace. Maybe we should slow down a bit. 

Mile 8: THERE'S the hill everyone was talking about. It's an ON RAMP to a damn highway bridge. Cruel. Let's slow our pace so we don't puke on this road in front of all these people. 1 minute walking, 1 minute running instead of our usual 1:3 ratio. We will survive! God, my hips hurt.

Mile 9: Thank GOD that's over. It has to be all flat and downhill from here. And thank God for all these people in the cheering section. I would have passed out forever ago if it weren't for you guys. I love that my name is on my bib - these strangers are yelling "Go Lauren" and I am in love with it. 

Mile 10: Why, God, why. It hurts so bad. We should have just gone to breakfast instead of run this stupid thing. But there's only a 5k left, right? I mean, I can do that. But HOW in God's name are there all these deceiving small hills? They're horrible little monsters. Kim, we got this. I am so thankful for the people along the race course running with us who said things like "You got this!" and "Those full marathon runners make this look so damn easy." 

Mile 11: I can do two more miles. Just two more. I run two miles in my sleep. It's just two. My hips seem to think two miles feels more like 16 at this point. 

Mile 12: What is this awful pain in my heels? Is this the tendinitis Kelly was talking about? Oh my God, am I getting tendinitis in the middle of my race? Kim, I'm pushing to the finish - I'll see you there. Keep going, just keep going. You can stretch when you're done. Holy hell it hurts. Maybe you can stretch now. Just for a hot second. STRETCH. STRETCH FASTER.

Mile 13: THERE'S THE FINISH. Oh geez, it's so close. SO CLOSE. Just keep going. GO. GO. GO. WHERE IS MY FAMILY? They said they'd be here, I don't see them - I don't want to cross the finish line if they can't see me do it! Ahhh - there they are! Ok, RUN LIKE HELL. 

And then it's over. It's the shortest, longest, worst, best experience of your life, all at the same time. It's emotional, physically demanding and brutal. The moments after the race leave you breathless, yelling out to anyone who can hear you that you'll never, for the love of God, do this again. Who the hell does this for fun? you yell. And then you realize, after the pain subsides, you regain logical conscious thought and you've had at least a day to reflect on the madness, that you're the one who does it for fun. And as much as your body hates it, you'll probably do it again - sooner than later.

Here's a couple good shots from race day - I am ever so grateful for the fabulous ladies I run with, and for the constant support of my family and soon-to-be-husband. You're all stars in my book! And watch me cross the finish line at the very end - yay for good friends and family capturing this one!