Tomorrow, I leave for New Orleans. Sunday, I run my first half marathon. I know it's not the world's biggest feat. It's not 100 miles. It's not even 26.2 miles. It's not a triathalon. But... it's a half marathon, and I'm doing it. And I'm going to finish it.
I am a small person. When you are a small person, people automatically assume that you are really fit. This is not the case. I have never been really fit. I have never been really strong. I've just always been little. But now I'm getting stronger. I still have more to accomplish on that front, but I'm happy with where I am now, and I'm excited for whatever journey lies ahead.
A couple of weeks ago, I was running along Lake Shore Drive, and I started thinking about what it will be like to finish the half marathon. I'm not the fastest person in our group, so I am quite certain that there will be a bunch of people I know at the finish line. So I pictured them, standing there and cheering. And, I imagined the Zydeco music that will be playing, and how proud I'll feel at that moment. And I burst into tears. While running. On Lake Shore Drive.
This is going to be one hell of a weekend.