Finisher!

Did the Seattle Half-Marathon on Sunday, November 25 with one of my dearest friends (and a very fast runner) Anita!  Here we are above, soon after the finish line, displaying our awesome medals!  Suh-weet!  We ran an average 9:49 mile, bringing our chip time in at 2:04:58!  I have never run that distance at that speed before.  It was truly a great and encouraging event -- and so much fun with my friend!  Oh, and NO RAIN! -- so no soggy shoes or drenched head.

I almost did not make it to this amazing running experience, so I want to take a moment to recognize publicly the faithful and powerful prayer warriors I had backing me up before this race -- Anita and Flicka.  About 2 weeks before the race, my right foot inexplicably began to hurt so much that I could barely touch it to the ground.  After about a week of studiously ignoring this inconvenience and pressing on with my training (hey, I've given birth without drugs to a baby with a 14" circumference head -- I'm not going to let some wee sore foot stop me from running), my ankle swelled up so angrily and alarmingly that I could no longer pretend that all was going to be well.  So, the panicked calls for persistent prayer went forth to two of the strongest women of faith I know.  Prayers were lifted, doctors were visited, and all signs were pointing to a big "No" from the One whom we so fervently petitioned -- the doctor suspected a fracture and warned me off of running while the radiologists examined the x-rays she took.  I was becoming resigned to another terrible disappointment in November.

Then . . . hallelujah!  The radiologists could find no fracture!  The doctor still tutted on the phone about weak ankles and laying off running and not doing the marathon on Sunday -- all I heard was "no fracture" and was elated!  I knew that she had to err on the side of caution, this being a land of malpractice suits and idiots; but, I knew I would never sue her -- should my right ankle cross the finish with a big CRRRACK, it would be my own damn fault.  All that mattered was that I COULD RUN!  The doctor gave me a brace to wear to stabilize my ankle; I iced and elevated it every day; I ran a couple trial runs on the week of the half; and -- miracle! -- the pain, instead of getting worse or even staying the same, began to subside!  By the time I had reached the end of the last tenth of a mile of our race, it was a dull throb, but nothing I couldn't handle.  By Sunday evening, the pain was gone.  And it has not come back this week -- praise the LORD!

Feels good to be a finisher -- even for something as inconsequential as a half marathon.  Now, as for that novel I've been writing . . . (sigh)