Sunday was a big day for me. A marathon day. A day I had hoped about and trained for for many, many months. After the catastrophe that was the San Antonio Marathon, I had my hopes set for something much better this time around.
The alarm clock woke me up around 4:30, and after a quick bagel + banana, we were out the door. This race is in Fort Worth, and it's a family affair. My dad started his journey into marathoning 5 years ago with this race--and since then we've all joined in. My brother, soon to-be sister in law, husband and I have all at some point run part of the Cowtown marathon. We all hoped into the car, and it was off to sunrise service. Sunrise is a small worship service the home church I attended puts on every year for the runners. It's a 5:30 worship time before the race starts. For me, it's a time to calm and collect before the race. Just what I needed.
It was a perfect 40 degrees outside at the start of the race. We had planned for Sam, Dad and I to stay together for as long as possible, or until the split. The half splits from the full around mile 10, and I wanted to stay with Sam until then. Early on we all felt good. Just trying to relax and let the race come to us. We all got separated really early on--by mile 3 I was alone and had no idea how I lost my people. We reunited at mile 4, where my Dad was having some knee pain. Sam and I decided to continue on.
(Why I'm posting this horrible picture of myself, I don't know. It's one of the few pictures we have from when we saw our ppeople and said hi.)