Guest Blog Post by #runCHI Club Member: Renee Kries 

The goal: 13.1 miles. The date: January 15, 2012. The place: Tempe, Arizona.
 
I am fairly new to the sport of running. It's been a little over a year. Though I've done 5k's in the years past, it wasn't until about a year ago that I started to get serious. I credit running to opening a whole new world to me.  I've made countless new friends, discovered my body can endure more than I ever thought possible, and I am starting to feel like an athlete (though by looking at me, you'd never guess I was one). 
 
I'm a bit of a penguin, but I've never been last. Not even close to it. My goal is simply to finish, and to finish strong. In July of 2011, after several races, I had decided to train for what I thought was the impossible: a half-marathon. Now, to my runner friends, this WAS possible. To certain friends and family? This was a laughable goal. Regardless, I convinced my best friend to sign up with me for the Rock and Roll Half Marathon in Arizona. He was an avid runner, and had been for years, so this was to him, the next step. I had no doubts he would finish the race.
 
I started to train on my own, then ran with Fleet Feet, and even signed up for Winter Warriors.  I was excited, and ready to go. Nothing was going to stop me from finishing that 13.1. Even if I had to be dragged over that damn finish line, I was going to finish it. I felt good during my training runs, cross-trained with yoga, and felt like nothing was impossible.
 
Then, in late November, after a fabulous once-in-a-life-time trip to Vienna and a week long break from training: the other (running) shoe dropped. I was ill, and knew my body was trying to tell me something. After a trip to my physician, the bad news arrived. The prognosis: "We need to do more tests. Until we find out what's wrong, I don't want you training for a half marathon."
 
 
"Are you @#$#@! kidding me?" was my response. I literally said it out loud to the doctor.
 
 
No, she wasn't kidding me. After spreading the word to my friends, paying to join a training group, and telling my parents "Hey! I'm not that awkward little girl who can't even run a block, I am training for a HALF-MARATHON!", I was sidelined. Depressed, and beginning to wonder if I should take up competitive eating as a sport rather than training for a half-marathon, I left the doctor feeling sorry for myself.
 
I went home, defeated. Then started to put it into perspective, and began thinking, "How can I still do this race?" I thought back to earlier in the year when I did the Rock n Roll Mardi Gras relay.  I did 4.5 miles, because the official relay transition point was around the 8 mile mark. I could do 4.5 miles! I could even do a 10k, if the AZ race offered it. I KNOW I can do that much, I've done it before! It's easy! Ok, it's really not that easy, but I know I can maintain a pace to be able to complete at least a 10k. So I confirmed that AZ was offering a 10k relay option.YES! Then, after a call to my doctor, I got the go head to do the 10k portion of the relay. "Listen to your body" were her words, and I promised I wouldn't over-exert myself.  I was on cloud nine.
 
But wait...I'll need a partner.  Yeah, that may be tricky.  So I asked around, and everyone was intent, and rightfully so, on doing the full 13.1.
 
 
And then, as they say, the stars aligned.
 
 
My fellow running buddy Lori emailed me one day saying she saw a post on the Arizona RnR Facebook Page from a person looking for a relay partner. Yes, a complete stranger, just putting it out there "Anyone want to do the relay?" 

So I emailed the woman, asking her if she still needed a partner.  Life, though, never makes it easy, so after a few days of waiting, she posts again on FB.  Apparently, she never got my email because it went to the black hole known as the "Other" folder.  Her name was Kelsey, she was from Canada, a married mom, and in the same situation I was on the health front.  Talk about the universe lending a hand to help a girl (or girls, in this case) out!
 
Kelsey and I met at the AZ Expo, and immediately hit it off. We couldn't have been more perfect for each other- around the same age, she wanted to do the finish, I wanted to do the start.  She was enthusiastic, friendly, and I couldn't have asked for a better partner. The next day, my friends and I drove to ASU, and we started the race. What a race it was; taking you down Mill Street, on the 202, through Scottsdale.  I knew I wasn't going to PR, but I could care less.  I had made it to the big show, and I felt good.  The race itself was extremely well organized, and the relay transition point was well marked.  At the 10k mark, I actually felt like I could keep going.  But there stood Kelsey, at the ready, waiting for my baton, which was disguised as a drumstick.
 
I was proud. Not just because I was able to race, but I was proud because I felt like I finally was starting to "get it". Life, like running, is one continual race.  Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. Sometimes you will feel like you can conquer the world after running 6 miles; sometimes after a bad 2 miles you wonder why you even started running.  You can train hard for a race, only have an injury sideline you the week before. But in the end, it's truly about never, ever giving up.  It's about dealing with life's sometimes unwanted and inopportune limitations, and working around them.  It's about seeing the good in any situation, no matter how defeated you may feel.  It's about enjoying the race, and all the good and bad that comes along with it.
 

So what else did I take from this situation? Well, I made a new friend from Canada, I had an amazing time in AZ with my friends and the family, my running friends Lori and Cindy rocked the half-marathon, my best friend Matt finished his first 13.1 and I couldn't be prouder of him, and of course, I got a shiny new piece of bling! Doctor has cleared me for training, so I'm gearing up for the Soldier Field 10 miler, and the Rock n Roll Chicago in July, what I hope to be my first 13.1.  Though no matter what happens with my training down the line, I'll just roll with the punches.
 
As I finished up this blog, I noticed that I was listening to a song by Duran Duran. The title: "What Happens Tomorrow."  The lyrics: "You've got to believe..... it will be alright in the end." 
 
And that pretty much sums it up right there.