C’mon, Kathy, keep going. My legs burned with every stride, sweat dripped down my face as I ran outside in the scorching Florida heat. The desolate country road ahead of me seemed endless. How long had I been out here? Was I making good time? Would I really be ready to run a marathon? I had no way of knowing. I was completely lost without my training partner—my hot pink iPod, ruined on my last run thanks to an unexpected rainstorm.
My 50th birthday was coming up, and my daughter and I had decided to celebrate the milestone with 26.2 miles of sweat and tears—the Disney Marathon. We lived in different cities, so we had to train separately. The hardest thing to learn was how to run at a sustainable pace, and I’d relied on my iPod’s tracking app to help me stick to my target times. Now I was on my own.
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Kathy proudly posing at the finish! |
Today was my biggest practice run yet—20 miles. Earlier, I’d driven along the route and set markers—water bottles at miles five and 15, a bottle of Gatorade at mile 10. At least I’d know how much distance I was covering.
The run was torture. I tried to keep a good pace. Sang songs in my head. Counted steps. But I kept running too fast, or too slow, wearing myself out. I never felt so alone, training to the dull thump-thump of my running shoes hitting the pavement.
It was too late to turn back. Up ahead, I spotted a bright purple bottle of Gatorade lying in the grass on the side of the road—mile 10! I sprinted towards it, then stopped short.
Something shiny was sitting in the grass next to the bottle. The same shade of pink as my iPod. I picked it up. A watch?
The digital screen flashed the time, down to the seconds. I surveyed my surroundings. No houses around. Not another soul or car in sight. I hadn’t seen the watch there earlier. Who in the world would put it there?
I strapped the watch on my wrist and went on my way. Soon I was right on pace. The miles passed by quick and the road didn’t seem so daunting. I wasn’t running solo after all.
