I asked my amazing friend, Evan, to write about his experience from his VERY FIRST half marathon last Sunday. Below is what he came up with. I know you will find it inspiring! Enjoy!

“An Optimistic Pessimist’s First Half Marathon”

Yes, I am a walking oxymoron.  The funniest, happiest, “glass is half empty” fellow you’ll ever meet.  Sarcasm is my weapon of choice in a never ending battle between self-inundated victory and defeat.  Are you feeling motivated yet?  I’m 27 years old and I just completed my first half marathon this past weekend.  I think the itch to run a half first struck me about 8 years ago.  I knew several people that had run the big 13.1 and it seemed to be huge achievement for them.  The lure of their glowing satisfaction drew me in.  Why it took me eight years to actually do it?  Not entirely sure, but I imagine it’s a web of excuses spun by a life that was otherwise out of control and out of focus (for continued reading on this topic, contact my therapist, he takes good notes).  However, I can tell you this.  Last year I ran the Hottest Half 10k which in and of itself was an accomplishment.  For the longest time, I couldn’t get past a 5k without destroying my shins.  When I successfully completed the 10k I made a promise to myself:  Find a way to get into longer distances and return the following year to complete my first half marathon…in August…in Texas.  A cake walk for a guy who embraces running in the heat, right?  (Insert game show buzzer here).

I spent most of the fall and winter “recouping” from my 10k and began lightly running the following February.  This carried on until April at which point I realized I needed to get moving if I was actually going to fulfill a promise I made to myself, and if you’re like me, breaking self-made promises can be more consequential and hurt-filled than others.  So I was determined to run it in order to reinstate confidence in myself, confidence that reinstated the notion that I could in fact set a goal, and achieve it.  I had 13 weeks, which became 12 weeks, because week 1 was a vacation to Puerto Vallarta (oops).  Armed with new shoes, inserts, and a new GPS watch (Nike Sport band, appx. $50, I love it), I became committed.  I turned down plans for Saturday nights to ensure I could run early on Sundays.  I missed 12 weeks of my preferred 9am service at church (because apparently I’m 27 going on 60).  These were minimal sacrifices though and I pressed on.

The biggest struggle for me of course became my legs.  While I am blessed to have a ridiculously fast metabolism, it has left me with skinny, and I mean SKINNY legs.  My knobby knees are already getting cranky at 27 and my shins know to give me the proverbial middle finger any time we pass 3-4 miles.  Frozen peas and icy hot patches became my new best friends.  From week three to week 11 after EVERY run I used frozen peas like they were God’s greatest gift and I would not be surprised if Icy Hot saw a spike in sales the last quarter.  The other, and probably greater inclusion into my training, was more conscious stretching and a day each week dedicated to no running, just stretching.  This not only got me past the 5k point successfully, but the last two long runs I’ve done (including the half) have not left me with ANY significant shin pain and I didn’t even ice after!  I also haven’t used an icy hot patch in weeks (Icy Hot may have to file for Chapter 11 Bankruptcy in Q3).  For those of you currently training, I imagine you’re hydrating on long runs in some fashion.  I was running with a small camelback backpack (try saying that 3x fast) that also held an additional bottle of water.  I tried as much as possible to only drink every mile to mimic race day, but it was difficult for me.  I sweat a tremendous amount so hydration is critical.  I was convinced to go without it on race day, and I’m not happy I did.  From this I have learned that it’s NEVER a good idea to change your routine on race day.  Whatever makes you comfortable, wear it.  Whatever you need to hydrate/energize, pack it.  The 80 year old lady passing you certainly isn’t concerned with what anyone thinks, neither should you be.  I won’t make that mistake again.

 I didn’t get a ton of advice during training, but I did get something more valuable: support and encouragement.  While some don’t like to put themselves out there, for me it’s a burst of energy.  One of the best runs I had during training was done without music and all I thought of the entire time were the number of “likes”/encouraging comments my running related Facebook updates received, the phone calls from bewildered grandparents wondering how many “k’s” a half marathon is, the people who had ran with me along the way, and a certain blog which was even dedicated to me one week…something about a pastor/mom/runner, not sure what that’s all about.  Tell your family members about this race, get your friends to do some runs with you, and pay the bum under the freeway to hold up a sign for you on long run days, you’ll need it.

Race day.  (Disclaimer, the pessimist in me is writing this next part)  I ate my usual long run breakfast:  A banana, toast, oatmeal, and a half a cup of coffee (preceded by a late dinner of pasta and chicken the night before).  I hit the pavement at 7:30a with approximately 1,300 other people and from the start, I was uncomfortable.  My pace didn’t feel right, I was immediately conscious of the hundreds of people passing me of all ages and genders, and I didn’t have the reassurance of 3 liters of ice cold water on my back.  I settled in after the first couple of miles and ended up putting music on which helped.  As I approached mile 8 though, I sank.  My legs weren’t hurting, my eyes were still focused, and I wanted to run, but my legs just wouldn’t go.  I invoked every ounce of willpower in about ½ mile spurts but then my legs would stop again.  I kept a brisk walk when not running, but my mental frustration waned and at one point didn’t want to finish.  I felt so defeated.  I had spent 12 weeks working for this, assuming I would come out and kill it, running all 13.1 miles at a smooth and consistent pace.  My public goal was to finish in 2:30, my personal secret goal was closer to 2:15-2:20.  According to the race officials (time narcs), my final time was 2:40:38.35.  I was mad.  I should be elated right?  I mean, I just completed a course of 13.1 miles for the first time, and in some capacity I was please with myself, but it wasn’t enough.  I put on a smile, posted on Facebook, went out to breakfast with friends, but inside I was devastated.

I felt like I didn’t have the huge euphoric moment I was expecting at the finish line, what is wrong with me?  Enter Optimist.  There is a silver lining.  A friend of mine sent me an email after the race asking me to write a guest spot for her online running blog.  She is not just a runner, but a phenomenal and inspiring pastor.  It didn’t take long before it hit me like a punch to the gut.  God tends to work in funny ways.  I thought about all the reasons I wasn’t satisfied with my first race.  It didn’t live up to my expectations, my pace wasn’t fast enough, my mental strength caved.  MY, MY, MY.  So much of my relationship with God has been me-centered and not Christ centered.  Christ doesn’t live up to my expectations, the pace in which he moves in my life doesn’t seem fast enough, why would I rely on God when I’m the one doing all the work?  I have the emotional vault of the world’s most sophisticated banks, and I nearly lost it.  Nearly!  Self-realization and confrontation can hurt, but are necessary.

   I see now how much this race has done for me.  It has reminded me the importance of relying on God in the valleys, and thanking him graciously on the peaks.  To accept the limits he has set for me and to work fervently with the talents and abilities he’s bestowed upon me.  For this reason, I have no worries about my next half, in October, or any other race I enter for that matter.   I may never become the runner I had envisioned in my mind, but that’s quite alright.  I’m already the runner God had in mind a long time ago.

Run on,

Evan