Crossing the Line

In life there can be many first time experiences that become a special part of our memories. Destined to never be forgotten, they can seem as real today as the day they happened.

"There's nothing like running the Twin Cities Marathon." You've heard it before. I've heard it before. Friends did their best telling me what to expect: Cheering fans lining the streets, handmade signs, and tears from both spectators and exhausted runners. Of course, you can't forget that proverbial wall—somewhere between miles 18 and 22—where many question just how much strength they have left as they approach Summit Avenue, putting one foot in front of the other, reflecting back to those months of training leading up to that final run. 


All that stuff is definitely there on race day. But no amount of words can ever do the experience justice. To really describe the emotions a marathon runner feels striding through all 26.2 miles is hard. Sure, everyone's experience is different. But for me, October 5th, 2014 is a day that I will never forget.

For a first-timer, the camaraderie was something to behold and perhaps added to the emotional impact. From the first mile on, there were people willing each other on. There was a sense of unity among fellow runners that made the experience all the more special. Sharing the streets with so many other people all who have a story to tell, is so surreal.  The abundance of love from family who came to be there with me on my big day, the encouragement from friends, and support from complete strangers as I made my way through the “Most Beautiful Urban Marathon in America”, I was overwhelmed in the most wonderful sense of the word. 

Even though there were thousands running beside me, it was an extremely personal endeavor. I wasn’t racing anyone. It was a battle between myself and this idiotic notion that formed months ago when I thought it would be a good idea. For me, this was my Mt. Everest.

Despite the physical agony, the final mile was the most enjoyable. It's hard to explain what it felt like to finish my first marathon. Turning the corner and seeing the finish line, having an enthusiastic race volunteer slip my medal over my head. 



The end of the run wasn't about the last 26.2 miles; it was the culmination of months of training, 5 a.m. wake-up calls on Saturday mornings, training runs with my husband and crazy co-workers, missing toenails, blisters, sore knees, and sore hips. But the feeling of reaching my goal was worth it all. I couldn't remember a time when I felt prouder of myself, and while it was nice that my friends and family were all proud of me too, it was how I felt about myself that made it all worth it. Words alone are never enough to capture the energy, excitement and inevitable agony of running a marathon.

Runners are a special sort of kind, and I am proud to be one. I now officially belong to an elite group of 1/10th of 1% of Americans who can and do finish a marathon!

“With each step I learn more about myself

Realizing there is more to me than I knew

I have strength, I have endurance, I have patience

With each step I can feel my confidence
and I am determined to run until I’m done.”