The thing about doing something life changing, ya know, like moving across the world, is that you don't often realize just how many opportunities you'll find yourself taking up that you might not have done otherwise. One of these bonus opportunities came about from joining the Gaelic Football. Sunday nights have become Fitness Sessions for the ladies and a month ago we made a group decision to do a 10k together.
I've never run more than four miles without stopping and those last two were definitely daunting as the run drew closer and closer. The team signed up for a fun run by RunKuwait the money raised being donated to a healthcare/hospital facility called Fawzia Sultan Healthcare Network.
The week of the race I was confident that I would finish but was also practical in my goal: finish in an hour and a half and when you need to walk, only walk for two minutes at a time. These parameters, I felt, were quite appropriate for the preparedness of this race.
The energy that morning was awesome, all the girls wore jerseys for our football team and the support was out of this world. We were all finishing the race even if our teammates carried us across the finish line.
It was a beautiful morning, not too hot, as the realization that I was also to be running in the desert descended down upon me. With the ocean to my right I had faith the breeze would keep us all sane.
The first 5K I feel, in hindsight, was completed with a steadily decreasing dose of adrenaline. My teammates cheers as we all crossed half way enough to put a smile on my face.
I pushed myself, keeping my pace steady, doing what I had to do to keep running. After that half way point I realized that I wanted to run the whole thing, that I didn't want to stop. 5K turned into 6.5, then 7.5. I was tired but with every check point I passed I told myself I was that much closer, and that I could do it.
As glorious as seeing that finish line was, what made me sprint that last 100 meters were my teammates, standing on the sidelines cheering each other on as we passed by. I was filled with pride as I crossed that finish line, my legs jello and every part of me sweating.
As I went to my teammates, joining them to cheer on those of us that remained one of them mentioned that the race had been measured wrong and that we'd all run closer to 10.8K. That .8K definitely mattered when I thought of how desperate I'd been to see the finish line but what I'd really been proud of was my time: I'd completed the race in less than an hour and ten minutes, twenty plus minutes less than my goal.
Now, running in a straight line can only be so exciting when delivering the account in writing but the opportunity and experience itself was yet another thing I'm not sure I would have attempted if I hadn't been in Kuwait, here and now.
And, that race is now only the beginning, since I have also now signed up to do a 12K Tough Mudder Race in Dubai the first weekend in December.
Have trainers, will travel.