Two legs, 21.1 kilometres, one finish line...

I love to run. I mean actually it's more of a love-hate relationship. There are days when I have such a runner's high - my legs are pumping, there's no pain. It's easy. I feel lucky to be healthy enough to do it.

Other days are different. I wonder why the heck I put myself through it. "Snain" - that wonderful east coast precipitation that's neither snow or rain - is pouring down on me. As I limp up the hills of Halifax, my legs are in utter agony. My feet are cold and wet. My clothing and hair are pasted on to me. I arrive home, and my fingers are white from the cold. On those days, I tell myself it would be so easy to just become a couch potato.

Yet something always compels me to keep going. Most of the time, actually, it's my fiancé. He reminds me of the work I've already put in. Tells me it'll feel better once I'm done (it usually does) and that I'll feel proud of myself. So on those days that I'm dragging my butt, I still pull on my running gear, lace my shoes, strap on my watch and head out the door.

So if I was able to cross the finish line yesterday at the Halifax Bluenose Half Marathon, it's largely because of S and the people who believe in me, including the great folks from run club.

As I lined up in the race corral yesterday, I could hear S's encouragement in the back of my mind. I no longer cared about staying "on pace." I knew he would be proud of me no matter what my time. I'd put in three and a half months of training (through the good days and the bad) and he was waiting for me at the finish line. This was, as John Stanton puts it, a celebration of healthy living.

Standing at the start, surrounded by thousands runners, I turned my attention inwards. Visualized looking down at my watch and seeing 1:48 on it as I crossed the finish line (that was a little ambitious, I'll admit). I knew I had trained for this and had run 22 kilometres before, but there's always that burst of nervous anticipation when you're waiting for the start, and the anxious uncertainty that perhaps this time, I won't be able to complete it.

The Halifax Highlanders shot the starting gun. I turned on my iPod, and thousands of us took off, although getting past the starting mat always takes a few minutes. We rounded the Citadel, turned right at the highschool. As we neared the one kilometre marker, I checked my pace band - I was on target, but there was no way that I'd be able to keep this up. So I just decided to run and ignore my pace - there were 20 kilometres left to go.

We ran through Acricola and down by the naval base. Ahead of me was a river of runners taking over the streets. Running by the Haligonians who lined Barrington street to cheer us on, the traffic at a standstill, I felt proud. As we ran down Young Street to Point Pleasant, a group of three or four runners were already heading back - they must have been a good 20 or 30 minutes ahead of us! We cheered them on as we kept going in the other direction.

Entering the park, two teenage boys who were running the marathon whooped as they saw their family, then kept going. As the fog drifted over the ocean, the weather cooled a little. The gravel crunched under our pounding feet. A fishing boat floated nearby. Iwas glad that instead of smog, I smelled salt in the air.

As we headed back down Young street after exiting the park, I high-fived a young boy standing along the edge of the street. "All right!" he yelled. "Looking great!" Their cheers and claps gave me the extra energy to keep going. So many volunteers were there in their purple shirts and orange smocks to cheer us on. Halifax has an amazing way of coming together on race day.

Nearing Spring Garden Road, an older gentleman asked a group of women running near me - "Is this the 10k race?" he asked. "No," they answered. "You're in the half marathon but you're doing great! You're at 14k!" No matter where you go, runners are always so polite and are a great source of support for each other.

As we continued along Agricola Street and by Hydrostone with only five kilometres left to go, I knew I wouldn't finish in the time I'd been training for, but I didn't care. And although the little nagging voice inside of me kept asking whether I could really do this, there were times in that race yesterday where everything came together, and I felt great...There were actual moments of almost effortlessness where the kilometres melted away, one by one. I actually smiled a few times too!

Crossing the finish line at one hour and 56 minutes, I was just so pleased to be able to say that I have one more half marathon under my belt. I think I'll try my legs at another few halfs before I try a full, but I believe now that I can do it, if I try hard enough.

For today, it's a day of R&R for me, and of basking in the post-race glow...

~ Ceebie