I ran my first half marathon in Philly last week. My time was a bit slower than I had hoped (2:20:49), but was around what I expected. The best thing about this experience was finishing. The first 3 miles were crowded, and the idea that I would finish was a bit daunting. Miles 4-7 were just plain fun; I felt great, I was enjoying the cheers, it was a blast! At about mile 8 I hit some giant hill, which slowed me down. I considered walking, but I remembered that I had ran at least 10 miles before, so I could certainly do this. At mile 10, I could already picture what finishing might feel like. At mile 11, I recognized that I had never ran that far before, and I was pretty excited at the prospect of doing the whole race in a reasonable pace (I was in the middle of my age group as far as time). At mile 12, I was looking for the end, and knew I was going to do this. I actually slowed down at the very end of the race, just to savor the finish. I think this might be the thing I am most proud of thus far. With other accomplishments, I have found ways to give credit to luck or timing or to someone liking me. There is no way to credit luck or anyone else for the fact that I got up and did the training runs - in 100 degree weather, on rainy mornings, when I was sleepy, before work and on the weekends. I did the work, and I got the payout, and it felt amazing.