Sunday, August 31, 2008
Life, Health + Fitness

Run, Colleen, run!

Tybee Island’s half-marathon is perfect for first-timers and seasoned athletes alike

By Colleen Oakley

When I ran my first 5K in college (well, I had to walk the last mile of it, but whatever), I became inspired. That blustery October day, as I limped back to my car, I told myself that someday I would run a marathon. It’s an admirable goal—and one that many people set for themselves in life. I’ve heard many friends say, “If I can run a marathon, I can do anything!” It’s inspirational, and it’s exciting! Sign me up!

Ten years later, I have yet to cross that 26.2 mile mark in one fell swoop. Sure, I signed up for a few, but training got in the way of, well … everything. And I would eventually fall off that running wagon before the big date arrived.

So I set my sights a little lower last year and signed up for the Tybee Island half-marathon that takes place every February.

I trained, to a point. I never did get past the seven-mile mark, and some days, it was all I could do to get a solitary mile under my belt. Fortunately, I had signed up with a friend who was as equally untalented a runner as I am, so we made a pact: We would run for three minutes and walk for a minute. That way, we would have time to recuperate and (hopefully) be able to finish the entire race.

The day of the race was chilly (it was February, after all), but it wasn’t too cold and it wasn’t too hot—perfect running weather at the beach.

At the starting line, I met up with my friend and her gang of professional runners (all running eight-minute miles or less). My fiancé Fred who hadn’t trained at all and happens to be naturally gifted at running (which happens to make me hate him), decided to run with her group.

My friend Tara and I hung back and at the starting gun ran our first three minutes. When her watch beeped, we started walking. After about five miles of this method, I felt like I could push it. I started running for five-minute intervals and walking for one minute. At mile nine, I felt great, and thought to myself, “This is the farthest I’ve ever run at one time before.”

At mile 11, things started to fall apart. My ankle and shin were screaming in pain, and I was half-hobbling, half-running. When a smiley man shoved a camera in my face to take my picture at mile 12 and told me I was “doing great!,” I wanted to give him the finger.

Then, finally, the finish line was in sight. Despite my foot pain, I started sprinting and crossed the red tape at 2 hours and 24 minutes, not great, but not shameful—and anyway, the important thing was that I was alive. My obnoxious fiancé had finished 30 minutes earlier and helped me hobble over to the refreshment stand to get a banana and a stretcher (if needed).

The next two days, I had trouble moving from the bed to the couch, but I had such a sense of accomplishment. No, I didn’t run the whole thing, but I finished. No, it wasn’t a full marathon, but it was the longest I’d ever run in my life!


I’m writing about it now, because it’s exactly six months until the next Tybee half-marathon, and time for me to start training again. This time, I’m hoping to run the entire thing, and maybe the year after, I’ll attempt the full 26.2 miles. Because, ya know, if you can run a marathon, you can do anything! SP
Colleen Oakley is a freelance writer in Atlanta and the former editor of Women’s Health & Fitness magazine. Got a fitness challenge for her? E-mail her at colleen@sundaypaper.com.