When I got off Exit 149 in Byron last Thursday, I was greeted by a sign I have passed thousands of times before. Only I never noticed it. It said, “FORT VALLEY – 12.”

My reaction was an out-loud “OH SHIT” and a feeling of sheer panic flooding over my body.

I was going to have to run farther than from Byron to Fort Valley. Standing up. In a time limit. Without dying. With people waiting to hear how I did.

Less than a year ago, I would have laughed in your face and told you YOU were insane if you’d said I would ever run a half marathon. I had ankles that were the size of my knees from swelling and pain, I had an extra bazillion pounds on me and couldn’t run more than 30 seconds without feeling like I was dying.

I don’t make decisions easily, but for some reason, waking up one morning and signing up for Couch to 5k and about a week later deciding that I would run the Princess Half with the Ronald McDonald House were decisions that I made with hardly any second thoughts.

There are a million moments I want to share from the weekend, but they’ll have to come at different times. It’s too overwhelming to wrap it all into one neat post.

Last Sunday, we’ll call it Race Day, we were up at 2am. We had time to have a little coffee, fuel ourselves with bananas and banana bread (probably not the best choice, but it was delish), get our costumes on, wake up a little, and be at the bus around 3:15.

The buses were filled with an energy that was hard to describe. It was 50% excitement, 30% panic, and 20% OHMYGODIMGONNAVOMIT.

Once we got there, we walked. And walked. And walked some more. I swear we walked 5 miles just going from bus to tent village to the start line.

A pit stop at the RMHC tent got us another banana and a team picture.

Team Charlie’s Angels: Princess Leia, Elastigirl from The Incredibles, and Rapunzel

Here’s where it all got blurry… the long walk through what I assume was the back lots of Epcot.

These signs were all along the way. It was too late to turn around, though.

Headed to the corral – E for EVERYBODY WHO IS AWESOME. I met up with a twitter friend Amy (@selfishmom). She was lovely and fun to hang with while we waited to run.

The excitement was escalating. The tempo of the music was increasing and the adrenaline was flowing freely now. There was nowhere to go but the finish line.  At 5:30am, they started releasing corrals. Our corral was set to start at 6:03 and in true Disney fashion, it was right on time.

With a Fairy Godmother giving the magic words, “Salagadoola mechicka boola,” she counted down 3-2-1 and the corral was sent off in a fanfare only Disney could provide. Fireworks in a parking lot at 6 in the morning with characters and fairy dust and magic. JUST MAGIC.

The race itself was a blur. Amy and I ran together the whole time. I’d be lying if I said we ran most of the way. We walked a LOT. She was a trooper and stayed with me (her choice, I tried to get her to go get a better time). Karen took off and kicked butt! So proud of her.

I’ve found that I get dizzy during races. The bouncing up and down and moving side to side and flippy ponytails of people make me lose my center and get all discombobulated. With thousands of people in costume and music and noise and chatter all around, it was easily confusing.

There was entertainment every mile. Everything from a marching band to characters to a gospel choir.

There were markers every mile. It’s awesome when you happen to miss a marker and wonder, “Where in the hell is mile 11?” and then you see mile marker 12 and realize you’re AL.MOST.DONE.

The pain was a blur, too. I know I hurt lots of the time, but it’s like childbirth and I don’t remember. (Full disclosure: I remember childbirth and would NOT do that again.)

As we turned the corner around mile 11.5, there was a girl with a microphone asking where people were from and what they were running for. I stopped and grabbed the mic and shouted out, “GO TEAM CHARLIE’S ANGELS!”

What a cool moment!

Right after that was the most vivid part of the race. Shooting pain in my left heel where a blister apparently burst. It was a horrible feeling. For a while I thought I surely would have a bone sticking out of my foot when I took off the shoe. But it was just a blister. On top of a blister. OUCH!!

With less than a half mile to go, there was a gospel choir singing and let me tell you… that’s when I knew I could finish. I was almost there.

Amy grabbed my hand and started singing “Jesus Loves Me,” the song that Aunt Diane started singing after Charlie was baptized in the hospital room. Amy sang it as we crossed the finish line and then, right then, I realized something.

I can do anything I set my mind to.

I have done the hardest thing anybody can do, and I survived.

Running 13.1 miles was nothing compared to hearing the words, “time of death…”

I did it for Charlie. I did it for Henry and Jason. I did it for people who might’ve thought I couldn’t do it.

I did it for the families whose lives will be blessed because of the Ronald McDonald House.

I did it for you, because you supported me in all my (half) insanity.

But most of all, I did it for me.

And now, instead of saying, “Oh shit that’s a long way to run” when I see the sign from Byron to Fort Valley, I’ll say, “I could run that if I wanted to.”

ps: Now I feel like I need a medal for finishing this post.

pps: Yes, I will do another one.

ppps: No I won’t do a full, but two halves make a whole, right?