Leonard Cross-Country Team

I had spent three months preparing: running four times a week, sprinting around the local track once or twice, downloading Beyonce into my "get psyched" mix, buying new sneaks, and avoiding bending to low cabinets in an effort to preserve my knees.

I put my training to the test for 13.1 miles on Saturday, and I'm now the proud bearer of a Hartford Half Marathon medal. I came in at 1:58:19.
Not bad for a baby mama. (I have a friend who swears childbirth makes you stronger...maybe so. It definitely grooms your ability to use a 'mind over matter' approach).

As usual, on race day I was running late. Aunt Kitty and my parents were waiting out front while I tore through our house, gathering my bib, fleece, Gu Chomps (super-powered gummi food), and headphones. And cell phone. And chapstick.

We were all nervous en route to Hartford, where much of the city was preparing for the event (including a marathon, half marathon, 5K, and kids' 1K). For example, my dad wouldn't stop talking. Before my mom hit him over the head with a Clif Bar, we scored a parking spot and set off the find Kevin and Janice, my mom's brother who forbids us from calling him 'uncle', and his partner. They were planning to park their RV across from the Bushnell.

They welcomed us into the pre-race RV, where jitters were palpable. Kevin was running the full-marathon, and the rest of us had our own goals to achieve. No matter which race you're prepared for, there's gonna be a knot in your stomach. (Bigger knots for longer races? Not sure.) No one had the appetite for food or coffee, so we snapped a few pics and joined the throngs of well-toned athletes.

Mom, Dad, and Kitty went their way, and Kevin and I got in the queue together. I asked what his goal was. He said "Honestly, to finish. But if I had my drothers, under 4:30". When he asked mine, I said, "Under 2". We bumped fists, I turned up Rihanna, stretched, and prepared for the gun.

The beginning of a road race doesn't start with a mad dash. It's slow for the first half mile or so, as people spread out from underfoot. It's a tangled mess, and hard to get your tempo going. But it was a beautiful, sunny day, and my friend Laurie came up behind me to say hi within the first mile, and I got into a groove with my music. There were also onlookers cheering, holding signs, some playing music, and little kids held out their hands, vying for a high five. Personally, the audience is crucial to getting a good pace going and maintaining a steady pace. An enthusiastic crowd makes me want to run faster and taller.

After going through the West End of Hartford, the course went around our neighborhood for miles 6-8. I told Dave that I'd be at the water station at the end of our street between 8:45 and 9:15. Pretty broad window but I really wasn't sure. I kept looking at my watch as I got nearer, wanting to impress him by arriving on time. I also really needed to use the Port-o-Potty, and was honestly wondering if I could run to our house ever so quickly...

I was totally pumped to see Dave and Edie, and that made me run confidently. However the lower-intestine cramps that I'd tried to push out of my mind since the starting block weren't subsiding. I paid a visit to the Johnny-on-the-Spot at mile 7. No harm, no foul. I jumped right back into the race feeling about 2 lbs lighter.

Not long thereafter, I hit an incline. A woman in a competitive-type wheelchair pushed up next to me, and struggled, but she kept pushing uphill. I knew Dave and Edie would be down the street, so I powered through. Seeing the mile markers pass helped. They were coming up pretty easily. I saw Dave and Edie twice more. Edie rang a cowbell, and Dave was super supportive, so that gave me some fuel.

Things started to slow down at mile 11. The mile markers seemed to spread out, and instead of cursing the race I did some self congratulating: "Shawna, you're so awesome. Look at you, you're running this race and you're keeping a great time! You rule." That was my inner dialogue, which brought me to mile 12, then 13. The crowd of onlookers was thicker, I heard someone cheer my name, and then- voila- the finish line! My parents and Kitty met me outside the gate, surprised I was done already.

We recovered and went to watch for Kevin and the other marathoners. He finished with flying colors in under 4 hours. The race was an awesome event that brings out some big emotions. I wanted to cry watching every third person cross the finish line: they're overweight, they're old, they're holding hands, oh my goodness, isn't humanity something else? It really does tug at something deep, and I can't wait to do my next race.

I'll see you at Manchester...