13.1 Miles

Ugh. All I can say is that my feet managed to take me from here to the finish line. I did run the entire half-marathon course at my signature slow and steady pace. I kept waiting for my mojo to kick in and mask how far the thirteen mile course would feel. By the end I had to conclude that if you've spent thirteen miles searching for your mojo, it must have called in sick today, because it ain't gonna show.

The race did conjure several pleasant happenings. One of the few advantages of being toward the back of the pack was reading the messages various runners scrawled on their jerseys. One woman, for example, used her jersey to itemize the cost for her chemotherapy($715,000), radiation ($45,000) , a pair of running shoes ($175) and the priceless nature of participating in the race. A turbo-charged runner whose mojo showed up for the race sprinted past me sporting the phrase run fast, run hard, or run home. My personal favorite, however, was the jersey that said Our Lives Are Not Measured By The Challenges We Avoid But By Those We Face. It was a message that resonated down to my toes.

File this one under inspiring stories: one race participant is ninety (no, that's not a typo. ninety) years old. Not to be callus but just to clarify for the record: I was, in fact, faster than him but only marginally. I was generally impressed by the enthusiasm of the younger kids lined up along the curb to slap high-fives. The embrace of my mom, my husband, and my kid at the finish line was sure sweet.