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The Rock ’n’ Roll San Antonio Marathon was Nov. 16, and as followers of this column and my blog know, I walked the 13.1-mile half marathon.

Thanks to nerves, I didn’t sleep well the night before. When my alarm went off at 4 a.m., the nerves split up and set up camp in my stomach and back. This has happened before, and the way I usually loosen up is to lie on a hard, flat surface for about 20 minutes. I spent the better part of an hour lying in my bathroom and trying to relax.

When I met up with my teammates and we got to the starting line, I felt pretty good except for the nerves I could still feel in my stomach. But I could also feel the adrenaline and excitement kicking in, too. The walkers were all assigned to the very last few corrals, and we didn’t get to cross the start line until an hour after the official start time. By then, I was raring to go.

The first few miles were easy. I was looking forward to hearing the bands playing along the route, and I have to say I was disappointed that the majority of them had called it quits by the time the walkers came around. I could have used the extra motivation, especially around Mile 6. That’s when the nerves in my back said, “Oh, you thought we left, didn’t you?” and the ones in my stomach said, “Yay! We have company!”

I started to lose pace, fast. My teammates were sweet enough to not get too far ahead of me, and they kept checking to see if I was OK. Apparently, I looked pretty bad. They told me later that I was as white as a ghost.

At Mile 10, I was ready to throw in the towel. I was seriously looking at the houses we were passing in King William and wondering if the homeowners would mind very much if I sat on their curb while my friends finished without me and then came to pick me up later.

We got to a section where we could see the route looped back down the street that ran parallel to the one we were on. My friends suggested I cut across and wait for them. I was more than happy to agree. I took the extra time to try, once again, to relax my back. There I was, laying flat on the sidewalk and feeling totally ashamed of myself. I trained for this!

My teammates came around (jogging, no less — adding insult to injury) and I heaved myself up and got back in the race. We were at the section where the full marathoners’ route joined with ours, and there were a bunch of supporters cheering on either side of the road. That might have been the final push I needed, because somehow I made it to the finish line.

The craziest part? I’m already thinking about next year and how I want to train harder and try to run some of the way. If I can do that, at least I might be able to catch some of the bands. (Note to bands: Stay for the walkers. Walkers are people, too.) Better yet, if I can do it — anybody can.