Finish

Not every New Year's Resolution has a finite finish line, but this one did. Maybe that's what made me feel even more pressure to complete it.

I decided to run that race on a whim with my new roommate, and after dropping that registration fee I was immediately anxious. I mean, once I pay for something, I have to follow through. Same reason why I eat all my fries [almost] always. And the almost is only there for my pride.

Fries may also have been a factor in why this resolution was made. So began winter training in Provo, which at times involved slippery runs south of campus and at other times involved lap after lap after lap in the Smith Fieldhouse.

Sometimes my really cute boyfriend (read: Michael) would come. Other times I'd go with my roommate. But mostly, I was solo and running more regularly than ever before in my life. It really did change my perspective.

I know a half-marathon is just so... half these days. Bars are getting raised all over, right? How is ultrarunning even a thing? But for me, this was a big deal. I still even think about it sometimes when I feel like doing something totally out of my comfort zone. Or when my handpicked-by-Kindal running playlist comes makes its way through the shuffle on iTunes.

I will always have a distinct memory of crossing that finish line knowing I never stopped running for 13.1 miles. I finished my race, finished my goal, finished something I had previously assumed I'd never do. 

Now if only people would hand me cups of water and ring cowbells for me while I finish other goals on my list.

Pictured: My sweet Aunt Tanya, who also ran the race that day.

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This post is part of my 8-minute memoir series, following the prompts from author Ann Dee Ellis. You can read more about the project here. This series is an effort to keep writing in my routine, keep a record of life, and keep my spirits high. 

"I write because I don't know what I think until I read what I say." - Flannery O'Connor.