I remember sitting in the Boston airport almost a year ago, insesantly checking my email, desperately hoping for a message from him. While I was flooded with disappointment by the absence of any such email, I did notice an email from the Big Sur International Marathon. Registration was open for one of the toughest, yet most breathtaking marathons in the US. I had always wanted to run this marathon, but was discouraged by my ex. He would always say “can’t we just vacation out in California instead you running a marathon out there?” You see, he was never particularly supportive of my running marathons. He would complain that training made me too tired to go out on the weekends with him. And admittedly, I did stay in on Friday and Saturday nights leaving him free to get drunk with his buddies and creep out other women. He would also act as if watching me run was the equivalent of being in pounded in the ass in federal prison by a man named Sweetie. I’ll never understand his constant discouragment, but with a mix of sheer desire to run this race and pure spite for my ex, I signed up for one of the biggest challenges of my lifetime.
I wish I could say that at that moment, I was over my ex and spent the entire summer training to be in the best shape for the best race of my life, but I can’t. In fact, I barely ran last summer. It still took all of the strength I had to get out of bed in the mornings, let alone go for a run. I knew that running would make me feel better, but I was so consumed with sadness, I couldn’t muster up the energy to tie my shoe laces. (Although I did have the energy to consume copious amounts of booze and make-out with 24 year olds).
But a funny thing happened between June 2012 and April 28, 2013…I found my happy again. And as I stood at the starting line in Big Sur, California, I was determined more than ever to finish this race and to finish it strong. For me, this marathon wasn’t just about completing the 2 mile climb between miles 10 and 12 known as “Hurricane Point” or the rolling hills on the last six miles that were certain to make my quads scream. Rather, this marathon was the embodiment of all of the struggles I had encountered over the past year and the effort it took to overcome them. Plus, I was excited about the free beer and cool finisher’s medal at the end of the race!
I breezed through the first 10 miles, soaking up all of the beauty along the Pacific Coast Highway. I remember thinking to myself, this isn’t so hard afterall, but then I saw it…the two mile climb ahead of me, reminding me of all of the times last summer that I layed in bed crying over a man who probably never loved me instead of taking advantage of the hilly streets of Boston.
But then I remembered the support of all of my girlfriends who welcomed me into their social circle with open arms, replacing those “friends” who cut ties with me because of my break-up. The women who went out of their way to invite me to happy hours and dinners or basically anything else that would get me out of my apartment. The women who held my hand through tears during a tailgate (I was THAT girl) and held my hair back when I drank too much. The women who would eventually become some of my best friends. Their support got me up that hill and through this past year.
I was exhausted after the two mile climb, but elated that I had met my first big challenge of the race with success. As I crossed over the Bixby Canyon Bridge, I was greeted by a man playing Bridge Over Troubled Waters on a grand piano (seriously, this happened) I felt the love of my family pushing me along just as their love had pushed me through the past year. I feel closer than ever to my family, especially my sister who had to see me at my worst last summer but has encouraged me to become my best. She was truly my bridge over troubled waters and I can never thank her enough.
As I made my way through the next few miles, I felt exhausted beyond belief. Not only was I feeling slightly emotional, but my lack of training was really starting to set in. However, when I began to think about why my training had been slightly sporadic in the 3 months leading up to the race, I began to smile. It was then that I felt the excitement of my new boyfriend (well, not so new now) overshadow the fatigue in my legs. Not gonna lie, I may have blown off one or two runs in favor of hanging out with him, but his positive energy is so consuming, I feel like I could run ten marathons when I’m with him. So when mile 17 rolled around, his voice telling me how proud he was of me echoed in my head and motivated me to keep moving. Oh and he has a full head of hair and is amazing in the sack. UPGRADE!!! (sorry mom).
The last 6 miles of the race were rough. But something kept me going. It may have been the anger that I felt having found out that my ex had cheated on me for 3 months before our break-up (DISCLAIMER: he swears he didn’t). His lack of human decency towards me still shocks me to this day. Or maybe it was the disappointment that his family, whom I had loved as if they were my own (even though I was treated likea second class citizen at his brother’s wedding), had dropped me as quickly as my ex. No phone call, no e-mail, no text. The silence from them was as deafening as heartbreaking — a wound that cut deeper than they will ever understand.
But as I pushed myself towards the finish line, I realized it was my physical strength that would carry me through this race. It was my mental strength that had gotten me this far. It was my emotional strength that got me through this past year. I crossed the finished line, threw my hands in the air and left the past year of my life in the wind. I immediately burst into tears, probably freaking out the old lady who was placing my medal around my next. As I stood there sobbing, proudly clutching my medal, I thought to myself “I finsihed, but more importantly, I survived.” And just like this race, my relationship had been full of ups and downs, but at the end of the day, I was just glad it was over…and I didn’t get pregnant!
Heartbreak with Humor 