1/2 marathon around the corner!

I am so incredibly nervous.  In 4 days, I am running my first 1/2 marathon.  I have never run 13.1 miles and will not until the day of my race.  The longest distance I have run is 11 miles and it was not pretty.  I had run two ten milers before my 11 miler and felt pretty good about both of those.  11 . . . not so much.
Anyway, everyone has been so encouraging and I am so very afraid I am going to disappoint them!  Everyone thinks I am going to finish way under the time that I set for myself (granted, it's ridiculously slow for me) but I just don't see it.
One of the sponsors sent out an email today about picking up our race packets and I immediately wanted to go in the bathroom and hurl.  Yes, I know that all I have to do is finish and my finishing time will be my best 1/2 marathon time ever!  Yes, I know that it's all in my head and as long as I finish that's all that matters.  Yes, I realize this is my first 1/2 marathon and so I shouldn't put so much pressure on myself.  My problem is I run with guys that have run 1/2 marathons already.  They are a full foot taller than me and have bigger strides and I always feel like I am slowing them down or not running to their standards.  They are so nice about it - saying it doesn't matter, that they enjoy the company, that their legs are tired anyway so they need a not so aggressive pace today.  I appreciate them saying those things, but I feel that deep down, they really wish I would pick up the pace.  So, I  am ALWAYS putting pressure on myself about running.  I know no females who like to work out like I do so I always end up working out with dudes.  I don't mind, but it would be nice to have a female work out buddy every now and then.  But then again, I find girls to be irritating and overly silly sometimes too. Oh and I can say that because I am a girl!  But I guess if another female enjoyed working out as much as I do, then she probably wouldn't be so silly.
We have this hill near my office.  We call it the hill from hell.  We run it on occasion.  It starts out so gradually that you almost don't know that you are running up hill.  Then you turn the corner and there it is, the uphill climb that keeps going and going and you turn a corner and you are still going up and up.  And the worst part?  Our trek doesn't include a turn around so that we get the benefit of running down it!  Granted, there are some down hill parts but we don't run down the hill from hell.  I would probably fall on my face anyway.
Anyway, I digress.  I think I am going to be a hot mess Sunday morning, eating my bagel and banana, while chugging water.  My husband was going to run the 1/2 too but bailed because he didn't think he could be ready in time.  He is right - I have been running for years, even if only short distances and he has just recently gotten serious.  Smart of him to realize it and change his plan.  He picked a 1/2 in November and is training for it.  I cannot believe either one of us is running a 1/2 this year.  It's incredible and scary all at the same time.  Wish me luck!

I remember . . .

I remember where I was on this day 11 years ago.  I was in law school getting ready to go to class.  We were all gathered in the student lounge talking, sipping our morning caffeine of choice, the news playing in the background - a typical morning before classes.  Then the news abruptly switched and we learned of the first plane hitting the World Trade Center.  I remember the disbelief.  I remember thinking "This can't really be what they are saying happened."  And I remember on the live feed watching the second plane hit and the entire room gasping. I remember the silence as we watched in disbelief.  I remember thinking I was not going to make my class.  I remember classes canceled and other professors that insisted that classes continue.   I remember the somber mood around the common areas of the law school that day.  I remember panicked calls to my parents trying to see if my brothers (both living and working in NY at the time) were okay.  I remember not being able to get through to my parents for what seemed like hours as the phone lines were crazy with frantic callers all across the country.  I remember trying to call my brothers direct knowing it would be impossible to get through.  I remember seeing professors that so intimidated me in classes, unbelievably distraught and their faces drawn with grief.

After the initial shock, I remember the anger.  I remember being ready to go enlist and ready to kick some terrorist you-know-what.  I remember talks of next targets and pre-emptive strikes and whether there would be another draft.  I remember crying a lot, empathy for all those who lost loved ones that day and for those courageous and brave people on United Airlines Flight 93 who sacrificed themselves to save others.  I cannot to this day fathom the courage it must have taken those people on that flight to do what they did. I also remember the insecurity after the attacks wondering if there were other plots already in motion of which we had yet heard or learned.  I also remember the families.  I remember children that have grown up without fathers and mothers, brothers that lost sisters and sisters that lost brothers, parents that lost children, wives that lost husbands and husbands that lost wives.


I remember all those things and on days like today I also remember how I am blessed.  I am blessed to live in this country where I can worship whom I choose, and where others sacrifice their lives to keep me and my family safe. Where I, a woman, am free to work, free to speak my mind and free to become whatever I want to become; where my children will grow up with boundless opportunities if they put in the effort.  I am blessed to have a wonderful, loving family, even if I might complain sometimes.  I am blessed to have children that drive me crazy at moments, to have a husband that can annoy me with his dedication to watching his teams play rather than helping with housework, to have a job that is so demanding, to have so many constraints on my time and so many obligations, responsibilities and commitments that sometime seem so burdensome.  I am blessed because I am alive to experience these things.  And though I may take things in my life for granted from time to time, I will never forget . . .