For the past three months, I've been training for the Columbia River Gorge Half Marathon. I participated for the first time last year and it was such a great experience hiking in the mountains among the tall trees, the river sparkling below, with people enjoying themselves and encouraging each other, that I wanted to do it again.
Last year, my goal was simply to finish in the allotted time before they closed the race. My walking buddy and I just made it, and we couldn't have been prouder of ourselves.
This year, I wanted to improve my time. Over the weeks of training, I learned about checking my heart rate and getting in the zone so when I went faster, I was still comfortable. I learned about leaning in to the hills so the elevation didn't take all my energy. One of the high points for me this year was at the beginning, which was quite steep. With all the adrenaline flowing, many people rushed upward, passing me. When we got to the top, though, I began passing them.
I finished the race 53 minutes ahead of my time last year. No longer last, I beat 31 people. Most of the racers were in their 20s, 30s and 40s. Another woman and I were the oldest racers. A bonus: my daughter Kate and a couple of her friends were in the race, too. They ran, I walked. They passed me on their way down and we high-fived.
It had rained all week, but the day of the race, the sun shone. It was a blast.
I don't know what my late husband John would make of my new hobby. I know he would approve of working hard to reach a goal, like we did when we followed his lifelong dream and with our young daughter, left everything behind and sailed away for three years. If you want to learn more about our sailing adventure, go here to find Holding Fast: A Memoir of Sailing, Love, and Loss.