my relationship with RuNnInG

Running and I have a relationship.  We go back about 7 years and while we may not love each other, we do put up with each other.
We began our relationship back in Denver when my friend, Aly, who had been a runner was looking to get back into it. Not only was she going to start running again, but she wanted a running partner and guess who she wanted it to be? ME! I immediately declined and told her I hated to run and that just the thought of it made me feel sick to my stomach. But something happened to me that night as I laid there in bed -- I decided that there was no reason I couldn't be a runner. I was only 24, I didn't have bad knees, I didn't have asthma and I really had no excuse. So the next day Aly and I went on our first run. We only made it up to the end of the road and back, but by the time I got to my apartment complex I wasn't sure I could make it up the flight of stairs to our door.
It was a huge deal when I could finally run 2 miles without stopping and I was happy doing that a few times a week after both Mac and Jaxton's pregnancies. After I had Beckam, my body decided that it needed a little more, so I began running 2 to 5 miles a few times a week and kept this up after Jilli's pregnancy as well. I even decided to enter a couple 5K's, but mostly for the t-shirt you got for finishing.
Then this past April my sister, Michelle, called me and asked me to run a half marathon with her in July, while we were in Utah visiting. My immediate response was much the same as I had given Aly years before and I found myself feeling slightly sick just at the thought of it. Being the encourager that she is, she kept at me, promising me that I could do it and by the time we hung up I had committed myself.
Leading up to the race I began hearing from people that the race was "very hard." We were told that a good portion of the 13+ miles were up hill and that you should automatically add a half hour to your regular time to finish this race -- not really encouraging news to me.
July 16th came much faster than I wanted it to, but I felt as trained and ready as I was going to get. The first three miles were hard, really hard and when I reached the top of the three mile hill and saw my other sister and her husband standing there cheering us on, my eyes filled up with tears because every part of me just wanted to go home with her. I didn't. I kept running and running and running, up, up, up, down, and up, up again. I tried to fool myself by saying prayers over and over of how thankful I was that I had a healthy body that could run -- I actually think it helped. Mile 12 finally came and while my sister started talking about how we could better train for next years half marathon, I could only think about how I was going to finish this one. We turned the final corner into the parking lot and I gave it all I had left. I felt like I was sprinting, but I wasn't sure since I couldn't actually feel my body. When we crossed the finish line together, I saw my dad waiting there, cheering us on and taking pictures (bless his heart). I was proud of myself for keeping my 10 minute per mile pace, even through the endless hills and I was proud that I had finished even though my body was begging to stop. I did feel better about the race when the newspaper quoted an experienced runner, who placed 17th in the Boston Marathon, saying it was the hardest half marathon he had ever run. I was glad to know it wasn't just me who thought it was incredibly challenging (PHEW!).

Will I ever do it again? I surprise even myself when I say, yes, and that I actually look forward to it.
Seven years ago I never ever would have thought that I'd run (or want to run) 13 miles -- just goes to show what some encouragement, some training and lots of prayers can accomplish.
I hope that even though I don't love running, the fact that I do love the way it makes me feel is enough reason for us to have a continued long and healthy relationship.