For the past couple months I have been training for two long races. I have been running five days a week at different mileage each day. It has been pretty good, I have enjoyed my training and so far, no injuries. All is good.

I had my first of two races this past Saturday. I drove to Columbia to run in the Lion's Den Race. This was a timed race. There was a 24 hour, 12 hour or 6 hour portion. I opted for the 6 hours. I figured this was more than enough time since the furthest, and longest I have gone is 17 miles in three and a half hours. Race day came and I was nervous. But when I got to the course, met by a friend, I eased up a bit. He told me how it was going to be fun, it was a looped course so I would get used to it easily and how to properly eat and drink for that amount of time. When our time had come to start I felt pretty ready. And then we were off.

I felt good for a while. I ran one of my fastest 10k's. I ran my fastest half marathon. The sun was coming out and it was drying the course. Things were looking up. I was going pretty well for the first 13 miles. Then I kind of hit a wall. My buddy said he was going to keep going, and I let him know that I was going to be slowing down, walking from time to time. I was feeling it pretty hard around mile 15. Honestly, I wanted to stop right there. I even told myself that I was going to bow out. I felt done. Then I started to think about the other people there. The racers who had been there since 6am and the ones that started the day before at 6pm. Most of them were still out there. They went through a night of on and off rain. It was cold and dreary, and they were still out there going at it, and seemingly having a good time. I gained some kind of relief/acceptance that, if they could do it for as long as they have been doing it, I could go for the next three hours. That was nothing compared to what the other people were doing. I was also able to speak to some of the people that were doing the 24 and 12 hour times, and they gave me even more confidence that I could keep going. That I just needed to push through the pain. They were right. When I pushed past the 15 mile mark, I drank some fluid, ate some peanut butter pretzels and some gummy bears and felt like I had a second wind. This was a great feeling. Sure I was going slower, and the minimal hills became a much needed walking rest, but I was still moving. I pushed through to the 20 mile mark, and I slowed down even more, but I didn't stop. I would only run the downhills and the straights. The hills were a non starter. I was going to walk those the rest of the day. That was the plan. When I got to my last loop, the tenth lap, I walked almost the entire thing, and I was totally fine with that. It felt right. So I walked nearly all of that last lap. I got to the point where there was about half a mile left, and it was all flat or downhill. I decided I was going to run this part of it. Well, it was more of a very slow jog, but still, I was not walking. As I got to the finish line I was first met by a photographer. That was good because I wasn't fake running anymore.

As I got closer I heard people yelling my name. I was confused because the only other person I knew was my buddy, and he was going on to finish his 12th lap that day. When I took my headphones off and looked up I saw my oldest brother, sister in law, two nieces and my son. They came to cheer me on. It was a much needed surprise. I loved that they came out to see me do this. To see me accomplish this feat. Having my son see me do something that I have never done before was humongous. Having my sister in law, who got me into running in the first place, was awesome. My oldest brother, who is the most athletic of all of us, having him there was the epitome of support. Then having my two teenage nieces seeing me do this, they knew me when I was much heavier, that was the icing on the cake.

When I crossed the line, signaling that I was done, I gave my son a big hug. My brother and his wife made sure I was done, made sure I didn't want to do more. I needed that. My nieces were so nice and so sweet. It made me so happy. When I calmed down, drank some more water, ate a banana and took my shoes and socks off, I saw that I had run 25.78 miles. By far the longest I have ever done. It was pretty amazing, even though I was beyond exhausted. Then my buddy finished, and he ran 31.3 miles. I was stoked for him. As for some of the longer timed runners, the 24 and 12 hour people, I saw numbers in the upper 60's and 70's. Hell, a few people went over 100, with one guy going 120 miles. That was amazing.

This was definitely an experience that I will never forget. I'm so glad I did it, and it has me feeling more and more prepared for the full marathon I am running in less than three weeks. I am still tired, I was sore, I hurt all day yesterday, but I am so glad that I went out and ran for nearly six hours on Saturday. I loved it, and I am very happy to have running in my life. It is truly the best.

Ty

Ty is the Pop Culture editor for SeedSing and the other host of the X Millennial Man Podcast.

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