Running across America: Half Marathons, Hospitals and Heroics
Each state offers its own unique experience—sometimes breathtaking, sometimes bone-chilling, and occasionally, downright painful. My journey to Delaware and Virginia proved to be all three.
Delaware Boardwalk PR
Our trip began with a flight to Washington, D.C., followed by a scenic drive to the Delaware coast. Rehoboth Beach greeted us with salty air, a charming boardwalk, and temperatures that could only be described as “freeze-your-face-off” cold. The wind off the ocean was relentless, but the joy of running alongside the waves made it all worth it. I hit my stride on the boardwalk and, to my surprise, clocked one of my best times yet: a 9:53 pace. I was feeling unstoppable—at least for the moment.
Virginia: From PR to ER
The post-race high carried me to Fredericksburg, Virginia, where I expected to tackle my 17th state with the same gusto. My body, however, had other plans. Mild stomach spasms began on the drive, but I chalked it up to the usual post-race fatigue. By the time we settled into the hotel and ordered pizza, the mild discomfort had escalated to severe upper abdominal pain.
shop Travel Essentials
Carry on Packing cubes Vitamin case Refillable water bottle Camera Portable charger
I barely made it to the elevator before my vision began to tunnel from hitting my threshold of pain. I collapsed on the lobby floor in my nightgown, and didn’t even have the capacity to be embarrassed. An ambulance drove me to the local hospital, where it took four doses of IV meds to finally ease the vise grip on my abdomen. The ultrasound and fluids ruled out anything serious, and the doctor—clearly underestimating the mental fortitude of runners—gave me permission to race the next day. It was already past midnight, and I had already decided that- for my health- I would not be running in the morning.
Determination pending
Six hours later, Travis woke me up with a gentle nudge and a not-so-gentle proposition: “I can run for you and get the medal.” Now, I’m all for delegation, but the thought of returning to Virginia just to check this state off my list was more painful than my sore abdomen. So, I showed up.
With a 12-minute pace and more determination than energy, I jogged the entire race. It wasn’t pretty, and it wasn’t fast, but I crossed the finish line of my 17th state. The medal felt heavier than usual—not because of its design but because of everything it represented: grit, stubbornness, and a touch of insanity.
On our way home, we made a detour through Washington, D.C. Despite my sore legs, we visited Arlington National Cemetery, taking in the solemn beauty of the grounds, and walked around the White House. It was the perfect way to reflect on the journey so far, even if it meant hobbling through history.
Running isn’t always about glory; sometimes, it’s about learning. My right knee has been sending me post-run hate mail for weeks now, so my next big challenge is to focus on preventing runner’s knee. Strength training, foam rolling, and better pacing are on the agenda. Because if there’s one thing this adventure has taught me, it’s that the journey is just as important as the finish line.
Two more states down, thirty-three to go. Here’s to fewer ER visits and more PRs—but if the unexpected happens, at least I’ll have a story to tell.