On my way home today, I stopped to get gas and, for the life of me, I could not unscrew the gas cap. I practically broke my hand trying, and finally gave up.

Luckily, I had just enough fuel to get myself to the gas station closest to our house, at which point I reluctantly called Jamie. “I just want you to know that it was very hard for me to make this phone call,” I said, swallowing my pride. Of course, he came right away, unscrewed the gas cap like it was a light bulb, and had a good chuckle. Apparently it was not screwed on properly, so to remove it, you had to simply pull it backward without actually unscrewing. Whatever.

I thanked him for his assistance and said I’d meet him at home. It was so embarrassing. I like to think I’m an independent woman who can take care of herself. Well, I am, you know. But sometimes we all need a little help.

After I filled the tank and took a few deep breaths, I actually drove home with a smile on my face. Jamie gets a kick out of me and my fierce need for independence. I honestly felt bad for being more frustrated than I was grateful to him. But he just shakes his head with love. And amusement.

I also thought, man, I should not be so hard on myself. So what if I couldn’t unscrew a gas cap? You know what I did just a week and a half ago?

I ran a marathon.

When I decided to run my first marathon more than seven months ago, I said I was doing it for all the little girls out there who doubt themselves. And, admittedly, that group included me. I wanted to prove to them, and to myself, that they could do it. That they could achieve their dreams, whatever those dreams might be.

Now that I’ve crossed the finish line, I have the proof. No matter what hardships I might face, and no matter how many gas caps get stuck, I will always have this. I can always say, I’m a marathoner. I set a goal, and I did it.

In a few days, I will write more about all the technical stuff we runners like to talk about – the splits, the gels, the gross blood blisters. But, for now, I want to end here, with a simple message that yes, you can do it. Two years ago, I could not run a single mile without stopping. Today, I can say I’ve run 26.2 miles in four hours and 45 minutes.

I didn’t make my time goal, but that’s ok. I loved every sweaty second of it. And here I sit. Still coming off the high of it all, but also with a serene sense of, yep, I did it.

And now, with more fuel in the tank, I’m considering my next big goal.

Cruising into the finish at the Steamtown Marathon on October 9, 2011.