It took me 2 hours and 20 minutes to run my first half marathon. It wasn't the best time, and it was five minutes over my goal, but I finished—and that's what matters for your first half ... right?

Notice the wet pigtails? Forgot to mention it was nearly 90* in Central Park that day. I'd started training in February, so runs in anything more than 75* just didn't happen. So to keep the runners from, uh, killing themselves, the powers that be canceled the full marathon and didn't officially time our half. A bit annoying, but probably smart. So instead of really concentrating on running fast, I just concentrated on finishing and not keeling over. And the fire department came out and set up hoses on the fire hydrants to keep us cool, and I stopped to drink Gatorade at every water station. Happily, it worked!

By mile 10, I was feeling ok and I knew that I'd never run any longer than 10 miles ... ever. But in my head, I kept saying, "you only have a 5k to go. 5ks are so easy!" But that last 3.1 miles were the longest I'd eeeeevah run.

But I crossed the finish line, sat down for a bit, then found Jamie and Jes who walked the 13.1 in less than 3 hours (!!), and we celebrated our finishes.
The next half? This fall, and I will break 2 hours and 15 minutes. It'll happen. Stay tuned!