Celebrating My First Half Marathon

I never thought I'd call myself a runner. For most of my life, I hated running without something else attached to it. Running was for catching a ball, getting to a base, avoiding a tackle.

Growing up in and around sports

My childhood was sports. Playing and watching sports was part of everyday life. And although I never really had the physical build to be great, I found some success and spent most of my high school years around football.

Over all those years, there's a story that stays stuck in my mind while trying out for the baseball team. The tryout required running five miles in 45 minutes. Why was that necessary? And why did they still let the kid who missed the mark by several minutes compete? That's another story.

But I did it. And, to my knowledge, it's the only time before August 2024 that I ran more than a 5km (~3 miles) at one time, while not also doing something else.

The first shift: a mental health outlet

Over the years, I picked up running occasionally and always put it back down, usually pretty quickly. It hurt. Breathing was hard. My body ached. There was no joy in it, just a means to an end — usually trying to burn calories more productively.

In August 2024, something changed. I went for a run without really knowing why. It still hurt. Breathing was still hard. I only made it about two miles. But my brain, which had been yelling at me all day, quieted down a bit. It was at peace in a way it hadn't been in many years.

That pain became an outlet. I could shut off the constant mental chatter and focus on how my body felt. It wasn't fun, exactly, but it was effective. It was a mental health outlet during a time when I needed one.

Two early milestones to set the stage for the half

After about a month of running these short distances every few days, I registered for a 7k race (~4.5 miles), mostly for the post-race beers. I still had no idea what I was doing, and I'd mostly been running 2-3 miles at a time. But I finished! And the energy at the race was exhilarating!

Feeding off of that high, I experimented with longer distances. The first time I ran five miles, I came home and just stood in front yard for a moment, catching my breath and thinking, I've never done that before by choice.

For someone who had never willingly run that far, it felt like a massive accomplishment. Far more so than the race. That was the moment I realized this could be sustainable.

The three essentials (for me)

So I started talking to runners I knew, asking for advice to help make it sustainable (given I still didn't really know what I was doing). Looking back on it now, there were three moments that really stood out.

Getting proper shoes

My younger brother is a lifelong runner, and one of the first things he told me was to get proper shoes. Not just running shoes, but to go get shoes made to fit my body. And to max them out at 500 miles. That and stretching being the two things biggest factors in staving off injuries.

The new shoes felt really goofy. But I felt the difference almost immediately.

Treating asthma

I've had "light asthma" for years, but it only really seemed to flare up at night. I just happened to be at the doctor at mentioned that I was running more and asked about using the inhaler for recovery.

The doc told me to hit it ahead of time. You have asthma was the hint. For some reason, it never occurred to me that maybe running actually was harder (and less enjoyable) for me because my breathing is more difficult.

The first time I hit the inhaler before a run was like I had a super power. I had no idea how much extra effort my lungs were giving just to keep me going.

Slowing down

I did a casual beer run a few months later. A friend of a friend is an ultra running competitor (does those competitions that last days). But I loved talking to him about getting more into running, and I asked his advice.

He said: "You don't have to go fast." Humans evolved to run long distances at slower paces. And if I could find a pace that was comfortable, I could go for much longer.

That was the final thing I needed. I played around with pace and found that I could keep going (and enjoy it) if I found the right pace.

Working up to 13.1

While things started to click, the injuries also set it. I had to nurse a few along the way.

During the longest recovery session, I made a plan. Our half marathon was a little more than three months away, and I thought I could get into race shape by then, slowly increasing my mileage.

I saw the doc again for treating the injuries, and got back on the path.

I look back on that time period fondly. I'd been dealing with some significant anxiety that made the longer runs really difficult in some ways. But as I learned to navigate that, I was getting a rush from keeping my body going for longer and longer periods of time. Every week brought a new challenge to run farther than I've ever run in my life. My neighbors probably got tired of me celebrating after a good practice.

Reaching the goal!

By the time race day arrived, I was ready. I'd run more than 10 miles four times. My plan was conservative — nine-minute miles would have me finishing just under two hours.

But I fed on the energy. It was an incredible experience to be surrounded by thousands of runners, and supporters crammed on the edge of the course nearly every step of the way.

I didn't just break a nine-minute pace, I broke an eight-minute pace!

What running means to me now

Something that started as a way to quiet my brain has become a practice I genuinely look forward to. There's a part of me now that didn't exist before. I'm a runner. And I like being a runner.

I'm not afraid of hills. I'm not afraid of long distances (well, mostly — my anxieties are still noisy).

I don't do it to win. I do it for exercise and to have fun. And it's the fun part that I never thought was possible.

So I'm just going to keep running, keep learning, and enjoy the process. Compete in a few races every year. Maybe consider a marathon. Maybe. Eventually. And I look forward to whatever else the journey brings.