Toe on the start line, and I can’t refocus my breath. My hands are shaking and I’m wondering, Did I bring enough water? What if I get swept? What if my phone runs out of battery?!

Truth be told, there was no reason why I would run out of water. The race was providing water stops every two miles, I had the full six hours to complete the course – and based on my training, that was more than what I needed. And I had packed a spare battery, so I could plug in my phone if it died. But this was my first half-marathon. The longest distance I would have covered in a training run or race – ever.

I had run dozens of 5km and 10km distances, the latter being half the distance I was about to cover. I had done the build up, experimented with nutrition, and read all the articles and tips for improving my running. But as a new runner, I had not trained like an athlete. I hadn’t stretched or done any cross training; two important factors to having a successful race.

Five weeks before my big race, I noticed that I couldn’t handle the pain in my knee anymore. Dr. Google advised me that a common injury for runners with knee pain was the IT band – a thick strip of fascia that runs from the glute to the knee. I couldn’t even step off the curb without crying. I needed to do something. Now.

I went to a physical therapist for the next five weeks, hoping and praying he would have the magic hands to fix my throbbing knee. After the first visit he uttered the words, “I think we’ll get you to the start line.” I had tears in my eyes knowing that all my work hadn’t been in vain.

The next five weeks were filled with stretches, foam rolling, and strength training (the PT says I have weak lateral hamstrings?) – but no running. I was allowed to walk after week two of therapy, but my itch to continue to make progress had me restless. My physical therapist noticed my extra edginess and cleared me for “slow jogging”. What he didn’t know was that I was already a slow runner. A slow jog was, well, walking. But I took what little liberty he gave me and attempted a “slow jog”.

That cold, February morning in 2019, I added my layers, filled my water bottle, and pinned my race bib to my shirt. I drove to the race at 4am, not wanting to be late (the race started at 6:30). My race was way across town and I didn’t want to run into construction or Friday night accidents. I took a deep breath. I made it here, and I’m going to finish this.

…

When I hear the bang of the gun and the firework’s flair in the sky, I cheer with the crowd around me and I take off, mindful of my knee. My breathing is infrequent and I feel like I’m gasping in the first half mile.

It’s nerves, I tell myself, you can do this. And I can. I round the first 5k, then the 10k. At mile 10 I feel the pain start to gnaw at me, so I take my ibuprofen. Three miles to go.

I cross the finish line with every last ounce of energy that I can muster. My mom meets me at the finish line with water and congratulations and lots of hugs. I had finished the race despite all the setbacks. And I want to do it again

…

October 2021 I wake up to a dark hotel room. The sun still hasn’t peaked over the horizon yet. Ty has his arm around me, and he is whispering words of affirmation. You are strong, you are capable, you can do this. And I know he’s right. I know I always freak out before a race.

Except this time, I haven’t run in eight months. I haven’t trained or prepared in any way. I hiked once or twice…maybe? With it still 100 degrees at home and after the year I had, I wasn’t ready to jump back into anything. But I had been excited about this trip. This was our first get away as a couple and if that meant I had to run 13.1 miles, so be it.

Lake Powell is freezing. Well, not freezing at 40 degrees, but it’s too cold for me. I have a long sleeve thermal under my race t-shirt and three-quarter length pants. I shiver at the start line, but once I get moving I start warming up. The views are spectacular, and even if I’m not running my best I still enjoy the mountains and canyons.

Ty, his mom, and my mom send me texts of encouragement whenever cell service will allow. It’s the motivation I need to keep putting one aching foot in front of the other.

At the finish, Ty is on the sideline with a bouquet of sunflowers. I trot over to him and kiss him before crossing the finish line with sunflowers in hand. This is my new favorite race moment.

…

It’s December 30th and I stare at the notes in my phone. Fitness goals. Two years ago, fitness was all I would post about. My Instagram was covered with yoga poses, running selfies, and free weights. But as of late, I haven’t posted much. I am struggling with my identity. If I’m not Holly_Runs_AZ…then who am I? I had worked so hard to get to a certain level of fitness. It’s harder to start than it is to keep going, I would motivate myself. Then why did I stop?

Run five miles per week, I type, Strength train twice per week. I put my phone down and return to my book, The Girl on the Train, by Paula Hawkins. I pick up my phone again: Read 12 books in 2022. At least I’ll have one resolution I can stick to.

…

February 2022. Back in October or November, Ty had agreed to do the Sedona Half Marathon with me. I’d finished it in 2020 but after months of illness and inactivity I had changed our registration to the 10km distance. Without a babysitter, the boys were joining us. I should have known better, and if I did I would have changed it to the 5km distance.

We finish in 2 hours. Not bad since three of us have smaller legs. But when we sit down at the Mexican restaurant on our way out of town I feel it in my hips and thighs and arches of my feet. I wash the pain down with a well-deserved margarita while we talk and laugh amongst ourselves. I know I should be taking pictures, capturing this moment, but it feels so good to be here.

…

It’s now March and I still haven’t run. I made a plan to work out twice a week, but I haven’t stuck to it. I’m still struggling with my identity, my body image, and my confidence. Running used to give me power and energy. But now the thought of lacing up my shoes and moving my body feels foreign and terrifying.

I find purpose now in my newly found interests and responsibilities, but I still miss the awkward tan lines and soreness in my muscles. The Instagram super stars don’t make it any better. PR’s and fast times fill my feed. If I were to step outside today, I already know my muscles will struggle and my lungs will burn from the first steps. It will take months of slow progress to build my endurance again, but that isn’t a task I’m ready to take on yet. But I’m hoping that my passion for writing and reviewing will spark my love of fitness again. I want this blog to open me back up to new workouts, focusing on nutrition, and, physically, feeling back to my old self.

Holly hasn’t run AZ in some time. But she will get back to the pavement.