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Pre-race:

Spoiler: this is not one of those “I didn’t train at all and somehow ran 13.1 miles on vibes alone” stories. I actually like running. Voluntarily. For fun.

That being said, some context: my first ever cross-country race was a 5K in the English countryside, and I quite literally got lost because the course was marked with arrows made out of flour. Flour.

This was my first half-marathon, and I started “training” in May 2025, or, more accurately, that’s when I started running consistently instead of just romanticizing the idea of being someone who runs. Despite that, nothing could have prepared me for how absolutely petrified I felt the day before the Holy Half.

First things first: I carb-loaded like my life depended on it. I’m talking an aggressive amount of pasta and garlic bread from Noodles & Company (this is KEY), followed by three chocolate chip cookies at my formal later that night, because, naturally, the one night that I have a half-marathon the next morning is also the night of my formal.

I had to leave said formal early (tragic) at 10:30 p.m. to go home, lay out my running outfit, prep breakfast and, most importantly, cry a little. Okay, cry A LOT. Sleep did not come easily. I kept drifting in and out, oscillating between light sleep and full-blown anxiety. At one point, I had a vivid dream that I slept through the race and had to call my mom to tell her I missed it. I woke up in a panic at 5 a.m., a full two hours before my alarm. Love that for me.

At 7 a.m., I finally got up, got dressed and pinned my race bib to the front of my shirt after an in-depth Google search analyzing whether “serious runners” wear it on the front or back (front, obviously — I’m nothing if not professional).

Then, unexpectedly, I got a phone call from my friend Eliott, who, up until this moment, had been joking about running the Holy Half with zero training. Turns out … it was not a joke.

Mile 1:

I was more excited lining up for that start line than I was for my 20th birthday. We started at Stepan Center, and the first mile felt almost too easy, but I was SO ready. I had briefed Eliott that my biggest fear was to run too fast at the start and burn out, and we were NOT going to do that. The first mile was all smiles… well, until my left AirPod went out of battery…..

Miles 2-5:

I’m not going to lie, I did not see the first few mile markers, so I’m guesstimating a bit here. We first ran around St. Joseph’s lake, and then we proceeded uphill to the road by the Grotto. Having been briefed by my friends who had already run this race last year, I was ready. Eliott was somehow still holding up beside me, and he was even giving me running tips, which I hesitantly followed. We chatted, we laughed, and I started to believe that maybe, just maybe, I had this under control.

Miles 5-8:

This is where we were approaching the end of the first lap, having run around North Quad, South Quad, St. Mary’s Lake and DeBart. Still all smiles, but I could see the pain cave looming in the distance. My boyfriend also came around South Quad and handed Eliott my AirPod case to charge my left AirPod (lifesaver) before going back to bed. Running is a mental sport, and no one knew that more than I did, so I was going to be all smiles for as long as I could. Also, Eliott update for those who are curious how he’s doing: Eliott’s GREAT, and took a running gel for the first time at mile 7. He was running with no music, no carb loading and trying new things on race day, something my mom always told me to NEVER do… Honestly, Eliott was my running mom’s worst nightmare.

Miles 8-10:

I was doing pretty well — actually… I was entering the pain cave. I knew the route now, so I knew how much I had left to go and split the rest of the race into 4 sections: St. Joseph’s Lake (which I now completed), North and South Quad, St. Mary’s Lake and DeBart back to Library Lawn. As I kept running, I just repeated to myself this is the last time I have to run this part. Around South Quad is where I spotted my gorgeous roommate holding a sign with a note from my mom in the corner, reminding me not to hold my phone… (Mom, if you’re reading this, I did indeed NOT hold my phone).

At the end of mile 10, around St. Mary’s Lake, Eliott casually answered a phone call from his brother. Mid-race. While running. I don’t think I have ever disliked and simultaneously been more thankful for a man in my life. I couldn’t hear what he was saying over Kanye telling me I could ‘touch the sky’.

Mile 11-12:

Out of nowhere, my other friend Sarah Sargent appeared. At first, I thought it was to cheer me on and see for herself how Eliott was still running, but then she ended up joining us for the last stretch. This mile was hard; the uphill from St. Mary’s Lake was not the uphill that I expected. It just kept going. And going. Every step felt heavier than the last, and any confidence I had been clinging to started to slip a little. Nevertheless, it came right back when I saw my boyfriend right beside the law school arch and realized I was almost there. The lap around the DeBart Quad was a stretch I had been warned of, and I will attest to this day that it was not that bad. It’s tedious and long-ish, but it was at the end of that quad that I realised this race, something I had been training and looking forward to for almost a year, was almost over. It was also at the Debart Quad where Eliott turned to me and went ‘Should we speed this up?’ Normally, I would be totally fine with having kept the pace I had during the last 12 miles, but David Goggin’s image popped into my mind, and so I managed a meek ‘yeah sure.’

Mile 13:

Crossing the finish line was one of the most surreal moments I’ve ever experienced. The final sprint of a long run is the best feeling. I will happily run 13 miles to sprint that last 0.10 miles because for a split second, you forget about your legs and how tired they are, and you just shoot through the crowd. Fair to say this is the first time I raced 13.1 miles, and it won’t be the last. My legs hurt after I hugged my friends and high-fived Eliott, and the walk back to Ryan was extremely slow, but I wore that medal so proudly.

Somewhere between the pain, the pride and the post-race adrenaline, I realized this wasn’t just about finishing a race. It was about showing up for something that scared me, sticking with it and seeing it through to the end.

So yeah — my legs hurt, I was starving and I probably needed to sit down immediately, but I was already thinking about the next one.