Earlier this month, I ran my second half marathon. This was the first race in a series of four I plan to do this year, and because this month (today, in fact) marks four years since my Dad died of ALS, I decided I’d run this one in his honor.
I didn’t have any particular time goal, but I did hope to set a personal best, which didn’t seem impossible since I’ve only ever run one half marathon. I finished that one feeling like I could’ve given it a bit more, but since it was my first time running that far, I didn’t know just how much I could — or couldn’t — give and still make it across the finish line.
Race day: let’s do this.
My training had gone well overall, but I pulled a muscle two weeks before the race. It was minor but it was enough to bother me even while sleeping or walking, not to mention running. I rested, did yoga, stretched, iced it… but I was worried whether or not I’d even be able to complete the race.
I only did one short run during those two weeks, but I kept resting and stretching and decided I’d finish even if I had to walk the thing. I was doing this for a man who lost his life to a debilitating disease. Forget setting a personal record. Even crawling across the finish line would be better than giving up.
I could do this.
The race started at 7AM, right at sunrise, and the weather was perfect. I felt good starting out, in a positive frame of mind. Sunshine and beach views always help.
As I’ve said before, my dad was a runner. I don’t think half marathons were really a “thing” when he was in his running prime, and there weren’t any official marathons nearby, but I remember him and his buddy Gary marking off a route and running a marathon distance. Gary, an entertaining storyteller, told about that again at Dad’s memorial and had us laughing. Dad ran just about every 5K that came up locally and had quite a collection of race t-shirts. He started running when I was about five and kept on for more than 30 years so I have many running-related memories of him. Plenty to think about during the more than 2 1/2 hours it took me to run this race.
By around mile 8, I was not holding up as well as I’d have liked. But I kept reminding myself of the custom race bib on my back:
Running for my Dad
#endALS
I knew the most challenging part of the course would be at mile 9, where the course crossed the bridge, then turned around to cross it again. But I also knew that Ken and the kids would be there cheering me on.
That’s my boy’s hand about to high-5 me!
We’d made spectator signs because I knew having fun signs would help the kids not get bored so quickly. They got a kick out of it, and especially liked the Nemo “just keep running” sign!
Ken chose their spot right before the peak of the bridge, and he and the kids high-fived runners as they passed. Ken said a number of runners thanked them for being there to encourage them on the bridge. Even if you don’t run, try going to cheer as a spectator if you ever have an opportunity to do so; it’s SO encouraging to the runners!
Once I’d finished the bridge, I only had 3 miles to go and I realized it was still possible to beat my time for my first half-marathon. However, to do so, I’d have to pick up the pace.
Those last few miles were H-A-R-D.
I’d made peace with walking it in if I needed to, but I wanted to finish strong for my dad. I knew I could take a couple of weeks to recover afterwards so I decided to push hard. My knees felt like buckling and every muscle in my legs considered cramping. When I finished, I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to walk to my car.
There were no doubts this time: I left it all out there. But I did it — and I even got that PR, beating my previous time by more than two minutes.
Biggest. Medal. Ever.
I miss my dad. I hate ALS.
I’ll continue to run as long as I can, because I can, because so many can’t.
Wife, mama, homeschooler, dog-wrangler. Introvert who finds joy in good books, sunshine, and authentic conversation. Fitness enthusiast and personal trainer. Often seen with a steaming mug of tea in hand.
Way to go, Jamie! This was so encouraging.
Congratulations Jamie! It’s great that you can draw such inspiration from the sadness of losing your dad. Just keep running! 🙂
Good job….and sorry about your dad. God bless ?
I’m late to congratulate you, but GREAT JOB! I think you’ve posted before about running because “you can” and that has had an effect on me. I like to run on the treadmill and I frequently name my own loved ones to keep me going when I want to quit. Thank you for setting such a great example to follow!
Thanks for telling me that, Kellie! It means a lot!