When I got close to my thirteenth half-marathon, I stopped counting. I thought if I knew which one was No. 13, I’d jinx it.
As I got ready for this year’s McAllen Marathon, I wondered what number I was on. I didn’t do any sort of official count, but I figured the 2017 McAllen Marathon would be my eighteenth. And I must’ve jinxed it.
I didn’t finish. Shortly after the Mile 9 marker, I slipped into the chair at the First Aid station. Ironically, next to me was a sign that read, “One day I won’t be able to run. Today is not that day."
So here’s a different version of my usual 13 things.
So that happened. As I sat waiting for a relative to come and pick up my car (I wasn’t supposed to drive), I listened to the names of the people who were crossing the finish line. The announcement of each name made me twitch.
It wasn’t a great feeling seeing everyone around me feeling accomplished and wearing their medals, which I had neither. But it was the right decision.
It was just another reminder of the lesson I’ve learned before: Don’t worry about looking stupid. Stay alive.
For the record, from what I saw, it was a good route. It changed from previous years.
Former high school water girl (really) finally running.