Signing my life away

So last I left it, I was preparing to run my first half-marathon, but before I tell you about the end, I figure I need to start at the beginning.  I was never a runner (if you couldn’t tell from my encounters with the power-walking grannies), but there is nothing like a breakup to send you plunging head-first into something. For some, it’s a pint of ice cream, for others, it’s much harder substances like drugs or alcohol, but for me, it was running.  I can still remember the first day I decided to take all of my pent-up frustrations out on the pavement.  It was a cold, cold day in the middle of January; I believe it was the first day there was no snow on the ground in a while.  I was growing tired of laying around wallowing in self-pity (and so was my mother), so she suggested I get out of the house.  I had nowhere to go.  I was recently unemployed after finishing up a maternity leave and all of my friends had jobs, but my mom was right.  The more bored I let myself become, the worse it was going to be. So I threw on an old crewneck sweatshirt and some leggings, grabbed my ipod and some earmuffs, and went out for a run.  The air was so cold it almost sent me into shock, but that is exactly what I needed.  I started running and all of a sudden I started thinking about everything that had been bothering me lately.  The angrier and more frustrated my thoughts were, the faster I ran.  Before I even realized it, I had run 2.5 miles.  Of course, once I realized how far I had run I started cursing myself because I had to run all the way back, but that’s beside the point.  The point is, I found a natural and healthy was to relieve all of the stress I had been feeling.  So for the next couple of days, whenever I was feeling overwhelmed, I would put on my sneakers and head out for a run.  I never predetermined the time of my run or how far I would go, as long as I had run out all of my stresses for the day, I was all right.  Gradually, as time went on, I started stress less; however, I still kept running because that’s what I needed to stay sane.  About a month after my first run, I moved out of my parents’ house and into a house with my best friend.  One night I was telling her how I’ve been running and how much I’m enjoying it.  She suggested that we sign up for the half-marathon that she had done last year in Philly.  I was a little wary because 13.1 miles seemed like an eternity for a new runner, but since it was about 8 months away, she was able to convince me.  So on February 16, 2011, I signed up to do my first half-marathon.