The Nemec Family: Fried Pickles Have Never Tasted So Good...

Running is not my thing. The last time I ran was in freshman PE when Mrs. Dorato and her polyester track suit demanded that we all complete the mandatory mile run. I did it, and I'm sure I whined and complained of side stitches the whole way. Last year when we went to Disney for Brixon's 3rd birthday, the Disney Half-Marathon was taking place. On the outside, I was cheering them on, yet quietly whispering to Nick "there are 1,200 things I would rather be doing than running!" But on the inside, I was secretly envious of their dedication, and how much fun they looked like they were having. I was momentarily inspired, but it was fleeting, and I never thought about it again. Then one blazing hot day last June, I was taking my daily walk, and for some reason, decided to run. I completed about three-quarters of a mile, and came home excitedly telling Nick and our neighbors, Vito and Sue, how I actually ran. I couldn't believe I did something that I thought I despised, and actually somewhat enjoyed myself. That night, on my tiny little runner's high (again, I did an incredibly minimal three-quarters of a mile...), I texted Chantil (who is an actual runner) with the brilliant idea that we do the Disney Princess Half-Marathon in February. She thought I was kidding; until the next day, when she realized that when I get an idea, I commit. We signed up in July, and our fate was sealed. Let me tell you, the past eight months have been the most physically and mentally challenging months of my life. If you haven't ever been a distance runner, let me tell you how time consuming and physically draining it can be. Especially for someone like me, who really doesn't have a passion for it. There were a lot of mornings I didn't want to get up to run in the dark, and a lot of evenings where I had to force myself to brave the 90-degree temps. I wanted to quit more than once. In October, I ran my first 5k, and that was the next source of inspiration that I needed. I finished in a decent time, and felt so good. I ran another one in November, and beat my previous time by 2.5 minutes. That's when I knew that I could do this. Sure, 13.1 is a lot different than 3.2, but I was reinvigorated. I kept training, and was up to 8.5 miles. In January, I took part in an 8k. I did my personal best, but noticed that my right knee was sore after I finished. I didn't think much about it, and set out the following week for a 10-mile run. After 8, I couldn't walk. I was in pain, and frustrated that for the first time, my body stopped before my head. A few days later, I couldn't make it to 3. After 7 months of training, and 3 weeks out from the half, I was beyond upset. After lots of research, I discovered that I had an inflamed IT band. A common and painful running injury that requires a lot of rest. I didn't have time for rest; so I gave myself a few days between each run, and could do no more than 5. But I hadn't devoted all of my time and energy over the last 8 months to not give it my best, so off to Orlando we went. I woke up at 2:30 Sunday morning, caught the shuttle to the starting line at 3:15, and was off and running at 5:56. 2 hours, 26 minutes and 16 seconds later, I completed my very first half-marathon. I felt pain after one mile, but I kept going, and maintained a great pace. At mile 8, I was seeing stars. The last five miles hurt worse than childbirth, but I kept going. And every step was worth it. It was the most phenomenal experience. Marching bands, princesses, and choirs cheered you on along the way. I ran through the castle, where trumpeters played the 'Rocky' theme, past the Disney firefighters, and had hundreds of dedicated volunteers high-fiving me. At around 12.4 miles, I came around the bend to see the Epcot ball glimmering in the sunlight, and thousands of spectators cheering us on. A woman in a wheelchair held up a sign that said 'Complete Stranger: I don't know you, but I'm proud of you, too.' There was no feeling in the world like what I felt after I saw that sign. I ran the last .7 miles like I had wings, crossing the finish line in tears. It was the most challenging, yet one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. So challenge yourself to do something that you never thought you could; you just might surprise yourself...

....then reward yourself with a cheeseburger and two orders of fried pickles.