My heart was beating out of my chest and the hard part yet had not started yet.

I was walking with 160 other people toward the marina a mile north of downtown Peoria.  We are part of a program called "Building Steam," which trains people for the Steamboat Classic race in June.  This is the second week and tonight we were going to see how fast we could run a mile.  This would determine what group you work with for the remainder of the program.

For the last seven days, I had been seeking advice from friends and magazines on how to best approach this.  For the last few months, I had been taking brisk walks up a steep incline on a treadmill.  I was lucky if I went 3.5 miles per hour.  I was scared that five minutes running on a treadmill would leave me keeling over in pain.

Finally I said to myself, "Take it easy and have fun.  Start walking when you feel tired.  Everyone has to start somewhere."  I set the treadmill for 5mph, set the incline to 2.0 and took a deep breath.

Five minutes go by...going strong.

Ten minutes...hanging in there.  Getting a little tired.

Fifteen minutes...getting a second wind.  So this is what Lance Armstrong talks about when he talks about finding strength within.

20 minutes.  Holy crap!  I've been running continuously for 20 minutes.  It's almost 2 miles.  I'm like the fat Forrest Gump!  I slowed down for a minute (mostly because I was stunned in amazement) but finished strong. 

Then I finally reached the marina I knew it would be different.  Different terrain, different incline, different everything.  As they asked the 12 minute mile people to approach, I almost backed out. 

Off I went.  If there was one thing the treadmill taught me, it was the importance of pace.  At first I felt like a tortoise among hares but I remained diligent.  I paid attention to my form, making sure my Nikes were holding in there as my feet pressed against the hard asphalt.  Soon those who zoomed ahead of me were lagging behind.  I was holding in there like a champ.  As my goal was in sight, I picked up the pace and ran a mile in 11 minutes 16 seconds.

I'm no Roger Bannister but I was pretty freakin' proud of myself.  I felt so good that after my group exchanged information, I resumed jogging up and down the Peoria Riverfront watching the sunset.