Last weekend, I reached one of the greatest milestones of my life: 26.2 miles — my first marathon.

I have always been a runner and the thought of competing in one has crossed my mind more than a few times. When I got home this summer and learned that my two best friends were also running the Chicago Marathon, there was no question in my mind that I would too.

Little did I know, I was about to embark on the most physically and mentally challenging adventure of my life. For me, it was a whole new culture within running that I had never been exposed to.

Running is unlike any sport I have ever seen or participated in. We runners have a mutual bond, and no matter how different we are, this is the one thing that brings us together. For many people outside the runner's world, the sport is a difficult one to understand.

There are two main reasons people do not like running. The first is that they always try to run faster than they can. If people went out and jogged a nice easy mile, they probably would not think it was all that bad. The second reason is that running in just about every other sport is always used as punishment. People have a preconceived notion that running is bad.

Therefore, many people have had a hard time understanding why I would want to run 26.2 miles, and others were amazed that such a thing was humanly possible.

When people asked me why I put so much time into running, I would explain that everybody has something they are passionate about. Take, for example, another sport such as soccer. I cannot play soccer to save my soul, yet there are people who spend three hours a day kicking balls into a net. It may be hard for people to understand my passion for running, just as it is hard for me to understand their passion for soccer.

Running allows me to think about whatever I want and have time to myself, while still being productive. So as soccer players put in time to prepare for games, I put three months of sweat into training for the Chicago Marathon. Each week I would do one semi-long run (between eight and 12 miles) and one long run (between 13 and 20 miles). All the other days consisted of runs between four and eight miles.

The funny thing is that before long, a ten miler became a pretty easy day. But everything is different after ten miles. I started to have aches where I never knew I had muscles and blisters where I never knew my feet could rub.

As my mileage increased, I came to understand that to run that far, sometimes I had to equip myself with more than just running shoes. Gu, Gatorade and my running radio were three essentials. My running radio became my new best friend. I could recite all the commercials and songs after they had repeated about three times in the course of one run.

People would ask me, "Where did you run for so many miles?" I would answer, "Where didn't I run?"

Each day before my long run, I would get in the car and map out a route. Every two miles I would place a bottle of water or a Gatorade to rehydrate, something I was never accustomed to in the days before.

Then I would be ready to run, but not without my Gu. Gu is this magical package of just that, gu. Although the taste is far from good, the effects are amazing. Gu is a little burst of carbohydrates in a package that I would take about every four miles to keep myself going. While everyone else was on Atkins, I was keeping the carb industry in business.

As the race got closer, my anticipation grew. When I finally got to Chicago, all I wanted to do was run the 26.2 miles. The night before, I was wildly restless and, for once in my life, I was up and ready to go at five in the morning.

The hotel had arranged to take all the runners to the start line in a hummer limo. Inside the limo, every runner fashioned Nalgenes and LiveStrong bracelets.

I sat down quietly and ate my pre-race breakfast, toast and peanut butter, excited butterflies in my stomach making it hard to digest. I was obviously the only first timer because not long into the ride the man next to me nudged me and said, "First timer, ay? Don't be nervous, you'll make it."

Make it? The thought never crossed my mind of not making it, thank you very much.

Well I did. Along with 33,000 others and a sea of 1.6 million fans. The last six miles were grueling, but my aching legs carried me long enough to make it past the finish line.

Wrapped in a solar blanket with Bengay pain reliever strips on my legs, I had accomplished my goal. I limped around campus for a few days after, but all the sacrifices I had made to run the marathon paid off. Everyone has his or her own passion: running is mine.

Lindsay Mosher ([email protected]) is a sophomore intending to major in journalism.