Ameris Bank Jacksonville Half Marathon, Jacksonville, Florida

This race was fairly uneventful, but I wanted to share a few thoughts I had for this run.

To begin with, the weather was predicted for that Friday afternoon to be nasty, from the time I left until the time I arrived, and likely even the following morning at race start. Worried about my safety en route, my husband was not too happy that I was going to make the 3+ hour drive in such poor weather to run a race that I would never win, and likely never place, and to anyone outside of my own head didn’t actually matter.

But it did matter.

Why? It mattered because it was the fulfillment of a goal I set for myself, to run a half-marathon every month in 2018. It mattered because I paid for it, the race, the hotel. It mattered because I planned for it. I did the prep work, made all the arrangements for everyone else during my short absence. It mattered because being able to run - albeit slow according to some, even many - was important to me. There would not be another opportunity to achieve the 12 halves goal before the year was over without a pricey plane ticket to another state in the thick of the holiday season. It was already December 15th. I had already deferred another race for a family event and had this one in its place. I wasn’t going to give up the hard work I put in all year and miss the goal. I ran a half-marathon in the state of Florida… in July… in the woods. JULY! I was going to make this race happen.

The weather outside was frightful, to be certain. I made it to Jacksonville in reasonable time, surprised that there were no accidents and no real delays except for slower speeds due to the driving rain. I performed all the usual rituals of checking in the hotel, getting breakfast ready (bacon, of course), and grabbing a late bite to eat. I ordered a glass of wine at dinner. Why not? I mused. I finished a full marathon a week ago. Ain’t nobody setting a PR tomorrow, that’s for sure.

Race morning came and all went smoothly. I arrived on time, picked up my bib, finished breakfast and lined up to start. It was a drizzly morning so I put on throw-away poncho to stay dry and sort of warm as long as possible. Then we were off.

As I settled in to the middle of the pack, the sun rose ahead of me. I had turned off any audio cues for my tracking devices and tried to focus on the run itself, the simple satisfaction of doing the work. This is it, I remember thinking. This is why we do this. It’s because we can. Lots of folks run for a particular reason: weight loss, overall health, mental health, to connect with nature, as part of a team, to rack up medals, to spend time with friends or family, to make money if you’re an elite, maybe even to qualify for the Olympics… But just to be able to run, at whatever speed and for however long…that’s the reward.

The course poked along down a main road and into a neighborhood, then back towards the finish just about the same way it went out. This gave me the opportunity to see runners who were ahead of me as they made their way back after the turnaround. I recall watching the faces more closely this time. Everyone was running for something, you could see it. Some were struggling, others were digging in. Some were strong and focused, while others were distracted by their watches and phones. Different sizes, colors, clothes and shoes. Hair up, hair down, bandana on, earbuds in, earbuds out. Fueling bottles and gels tucked in to belts with an occasional backpack. All different, but all the same.

As I approached the stadium where the finish was located, I picked up my pace. Not sure what song was pumping in my headphones or what sudden energy surge came over me, but I took off. I must have passed 15-20 people in that last quarter mile coming off the road, over the grassy field and around the rubber track. I even spooked a lady as I came up behind her on the first turn of the track. I crossed the finish feeling strong. The race wasn’t my fastest or best. But I still won that day. I had achieved the goal I set for myself. Something that just a year prior I thought would be difficult, maybe even impossible. Something I wouldn’t have even tried 10 or even 20 years ago.

As usual, life is busy these days. I collected my medal, grabbed a few orange slices, took a picture and headed back to the hotel for a shower before my check-out time closed in. No time to bask in the race afterglow. From Jacksonville, I was off to catch up to the hubs and the kids who were on their way to my brother’s house. We’d visit with family for the remainder of the weekend. Another race in the books.

As I drove home, I spent the hours pondering what goal to go after next. What should I try? What should I do?

What can I do?