When I wake up in a panic on the morning of Sunday, April 20, the first thing I notice is how dark it is. Surely it can’t be this dark at 6 a.m. Then I realize that it’s actually around 3 a.m., and that I had a particularly vivid dream that I slept through my 6:15 alarm. This is not an uncommon phenomenon: often, on nights before important events in my life, I dream that I’ve overslept and am running late to wherever I need to go. 

I get back into bed and sleep restlessly for the next few hours. I have some more dreams of different ways tomorrow could go wrong. I know I’m more than prepared, but I can’t get rid of the worry. After what feels like an eternity, my alarm actually goes off. 

Adrenaline shoots through me, even though the event isn’t for two hours. I meet my friend Anika in the Branner common room, and we get into an Uber. For the most part, silence fills up the back seat. My knee bounces as we climb into the hills of La Honda, Calif. When we finally arrive at Google Maps’ indicated destination, all we see are trees. This is our first half marathon, so we don’t know what to expect. We ask the Uber driver to continue a little farther, and suddenly a long line of cars with middle-aged moms and dads warming up comes into view. We pull into the check-in area, and I realize my nerves have turned into pure excitement.

The race begins. We descend into lush forest and navigate narrow paths up through the hills.  For each mile we hit, we film a short clip of celebration. The first few miles feel solid, but after we reach a few difficult uphills, I worry about making it through. Around mile six, we’re climbing up a forest path when the trees suddenly fall away and we’re at the top of a vista, looking out at mountains that stretch out for miles. Anika and I look at each other. This is it, this is what we’ve been chugging up all of the hills for. We stop for a minute to take pictures; with those views, how could we not?

When we start back up again, we realize that we’re almost halfway through the race. We push forward a bit more, and as we near the halfway check-in point of the out-and-back course, we see joyous racers running towards us. Almost every runner calls out encouragement. We begin to copy them, cheering on each racer we see. With every cheer, I become less tired. My own steps grow lighter. 

As we begin our descent back to the start of the race, Anika notices something interesting: when people say “it’s all downhill from here,” they usually mean it in a bad way. But for us, the next six and a half miles on the downhill feel incredible. 

For the second half of the race, we cruise. As we pass mile 13, we agree: we’ll hold hands and run through the finish line together. 

The moment arrives. 

“Ready?” 

“Yes!” 

We grab each other’s hands and charge through the finish, cheering as we go. One of the race organizers hands us finisher’s medals. When we hear our names announced, we’re surprised: we finished first in our age and gender group! We walk for a bit and lie on the grass, stretching and staring at the clear blue sky. Somehow, it’s only 10:30 am. Back on campus, brunch has just opened.

Our euphoric state is interrupted when we realize we can’t find cell service to call an Uber back home. We walk around trying to find a signal, but to no avail. We’ll have to find a ride back with another racer. Just a few hours earlier, I would have been overwhelmed and stressed, but the endorphins from our triumph make this seem like a minor issue. We introduce ourselves to a woman at the snack table and ask if she happens to be heading towards Palo Alto. We just need to get far enough down the mountain for cell service. Lisa lives near Mountain View, and she’s happy to take us back if we wait for her friends who are still finishing up. We thank her profusely and continue stretching and snacking.

One of Lisa’s friends, Amy, arrives, and we start chatting. Anika tells them she’s an international relations major and is trying to decide where to study abroad, and Amy is very excited because she’s lived all over the world and adores traveling. She tells us that travel is one of the most important tests of character: once, when she was dating someone, she decided to take him with her to Hong Kong to see what he was like away from home. They’re now married. Lisa is a psychologist at a middle school. I excitedly ask her about her experience and tell her about my volunteer work at a middle school in a similar field. Lisa and Amy’s friend Robin finishes the course and comes to join us, and we all congratulate each other. 

In the car, the women talk about all the running they do. Robin recently ran a 50k, and they run races all over the Bay and beyond. 

“We run for fun,” they tell us. They run in places where racers cheer each other on and they don’t worry about hitting a certain pace. They tell us how they’ve traveled to Fiji, Italy, Tahiti, France and sometimes find races in those places, too. The French trail-running community is huge and far stronger than the Bay-Area, we learn. 

One thing I love most about running is that it’s a common international language. Everyone shares the same goals of being outdoors, moving around and meeting new people. As the women tell us their travel adventures, I find myself growing more and more excited for adulthood. Robin confesses that she wants to run a long race in the South of France, but she doesn’t think her family would be too fond of driving six hours out of the way just to wait three more hours for her. We all laugh. Anika and I smile at each other, and I’m pretty sure we’re thinking the same thing: we dream of having their lives, where we can work jobs we like and have families we love but also pick up and run 50-milers by Lac D’Annecy. 

I look out of the window and realize we are by the Dish. Our new friends have gone out of their way to drive us back to campus. They pull up in front of our dorm, and we thank them for driving us and saving us from having to run another thirteen miles back to campus. They tell us they’ve been happy to do so. We step out of the car, and Lisa hugs us. We wave at the others as they all drive off. As soon as they are gone, we turn to each other. 

“They are so cool.” 

The past six months of living exclusively with teenagers have made me fear the idea of becoming a real adult in my head. Adulthood feels like a wild unknown, with a lot of potential for unhappiness, while adolescence feels familiar and safe. But the half marathon has taught me that the best experiences do not come from the familiar and safe. After tackling my fear of the run, I’ve realized that I’ll be able to tackle the many other unknown challenges of adulthood. I don’t know what they are yet, but my new friends have shown me that adulthood has many beautiful surprises waiting. I can’t wait to see what the next 13.1 miles of life will bring.