Crossing the line

Recently I have been struggling with my motivation to workout. I can blame the weather for most part because I don't want to run in the wind and I defiantly don't want to run in the rain. I have a gym membership and my gym (like every gym) has treadmills. I am still trying to find someone who really enjoys running distances on one of those boring things. What is so amazing about looking at the people around you sweat-it-up while gliding easily at 7 mph? There I am huffing and puffing trying to maintain my pace of 6.2 mph. Even now, the thought of running 5 miles inside makes me sick. The easy solution has been to not run. Just get in my car, drive home, sit on my butt and beat myself up that I can't get the run over with. I like the idea of running but I have more motivation when I have a running partner. I had been running with my friend D but our schedules have been different which doesn't allow us to run together. My ultimate goal this summer has been to run two races. One was a half marathon and the other was a relay. This past Saturday was my half marathon. I knew I wasn't quite ready because it had been 3 weeks since I had done a long run and it was only 10 miles. I was reassured by many that adding 3 miles was going to be okay. After driving the course, it became apparent that the "beginners course" was not friendly to the first time half marathon runners. There were hills, dirt roads and rollers to conquer. I was prepared for them and was lucky to have the encouragement from my father the entire time. About mile 8 I started to struggle, I had to walk and rehydrate. My feet were hurting but I attributed that to they dirt road we were on at that time. I told my dad at mile 11 there should be oranges, I'll eat one and then we can bust out the last two miles. When we reached mile 11 I noticed something was off. The course map did not take us this way. We were running away from the finish line. My body was shutting down and I had no idea what to do about it. We reach the next turn and it said mile 11? I looked at my phone that was tracking our miles and it said we had really gone 12 miles. I was so distraught. I couldn't fathom running an additional 2 miles when all I was expecting was 1 more mile. When we reached the next aid station I gulped down some aspirin and attempted to press on. The ladies at that station calmly said "they messed up on the course so this is really mile 13, congrats!" What? As we passed that station it seemed everyone in front of us started to walk. They knew it wasn't over but were exhausted as well. I was on the verge of tears and my dad was frustrated as well. We pressed on but I honestly could not run. My left leg was killing me so we walked. I was so frustrated because we were on track at mile 13 with the pace I wanted to keep. When it was almost time to cross the finish line I hobbled along and finished. Everyone gave me praise that I crossed and completed the race. This is when I feel like I failed. I trained and trained for this race and felt unsuccessful. I was not ready to run 15 miles nor did I want to. I wanted to enjoy my race but I did not. Two days later, I still feel uneasy about the entire situation. I have no joy that I completed a half marathon and change. It killed my spirit for running. My second race is in 3 weeks and it is just a fun relay with 5 other women. However, my enthusiasm has faded for the weekend festivities because I worry it will end up like this past weekend. I need to pull myself off the ground, clean the dirt of my shoes and try this again. This is easier said then done because I'm still searching for my motivation. Maybe I'm not a runner.