By Brooke | Joyfull Wellness Hub
I did my first Princess Half Marathon in 2024. When I registered back in 2023, I was certain this race would be a symbol of a new chapter in my life — a celebration of my independence and the start of something new just for me. Life didn’t follow that script exactly, but the race happened, and it changed me in ways I’m still unpacking.
Let me tell you about it.
I’m a Walker. And That’s Perfectly Fine.
First things first: I am a walker, not a runner. I have wanted to run — truly — but my knees object vigorously when I try. So I’ve made peace with walking, and I’ve learned that runDisney races are wonderfully beginner-friendly and walker-friendly.
runDisney does require that you maintain a 16-minute-per-mile pace. And depending on when you start, you might have a small cushion beyond that. The way they enforce that pace is through what runDisney fans lovingly call the balloon ladies — official pacers, usually three of them, each with a brightly colored balloon attached to their belt so you can spot them from a distance. They start walking the course after the very last racer has crossed the starting line, maintaining that required pace the entire way. If you stay ahead of them, you’re fine. If they pass you, you’re at risk of being swept off the course.
I want to say something important about the balloon ladies, because I’ve heard people talk about them with fear — and they deserve more credit than that. Every time I’ve encountered them on a course, they weren’t just pacing. They were coaching. Encouraging. Praising. Cheering on everyone around them who was struggling. They genuinely want everyone to finish, and they bring real warmth to what could otherwise feel like a terrifying countdown clock.
Now, if you’re a fast runner, 16 minutes per mile probably sounds leisurely to you. I’ve been in race corrals and overheard people say they could crawl the course and maintain a 16-minute pace. As a woman in her late 50s carrying significant extra weight, I want you to know: 16 minutes per mile does not feel slow when you’re training for it.
When I started training for that 2024 race, my average pace for a 3-mile walk was 21 minutes per mile. I hadn’t walked a half marathon in over 10 years. My joints had been carrying extra weight for all of those years — taking a toll on my body and my confidence. I trained for seven months. My longest training walk was 14 miles, completed a couple of weeks before race day at about a 17-minute-per-mile pace. I knew race-day adrenaline would help. I showed up nervous, proud, and ready.
The Middle-of-the-Night Magic of runDisney
If you’ve never done a runDisney race, here’s something you need to know: you will be up in the middle of the night. Most races start at 5am, and runDisney recommends you be in your corral by 3:30am. Runners with a proven pace are in the first corrals, labeled A through E (or further). The fastest runners are up front, and those of us without a proof of time — because our paces don’t qualify for the faster corrals — are sorted toward the back.
As a walker, I typically end up in the last corral. Which is also where the balloon ladies start.
Here’s the math that matters: the later corrals hold 3,000 to 4,000 people. If you’re at the very front of that corral, there are thousands of people between you and the balloon ladies when the race begins. The farther back you are in the corral, the smaller your cushion. For thousands of participants, this is no issue at all — their natural pace is so much faster than 16 minutes per mile that they could stop for multiple character photos and still finish comfortably. I never stop for character photos. I can’t afford the time. But someday I hope to be fast enough that I can.
Race Morning: The Monorail, the Bathroom Line, and 2:45am
I was staying at Bay Lake Tower, the DVC resort connected to Disney’s Contemporary Resort. The Contemporary is a monorail resort, which meant I could take the monorail to EPCOT — where all runDisney races at Walt Disney World begin — starting at 2:30am. One perk of the monorail: you go through security before boarding, so you skip the long security lines that everyone arriving by bus or car has to navigate.
I left my room at 2:45am, full of confidence that I’d reach the front of my corral easily.
Ha.
I made the decision to use the regular restrooms inside EPCOT rather than the hundreds of port-a-potties lined up near the corrals. I prefer a flush toilet when one is available. But that bathroom line cost me 25 minutes. By the time I reached my corral, the front half was already packed with people. I squeezed in as best I could, but there was no getting to the front. I was in my corral before 4am, and the waiting game began.
The pre-race corral wait is genuinely one of the biggest challenges of a Disney race, and it’s something you can’t really train for. Almost everyone sits on the ground at first before eventually the excitement ripples through and every stands up and pushes towards the front of the corral. One year, this happened just after 4 am–even though it would be about an hour before we actually started moving at all towards the start! There’s music and announcements building excitement, and it mostly works — but it’s still a long time to stand and wait before you even take your first step. My group crossed the starting line just after 6am.
And then — we were off.
Mile 6. The castle. Worth every mile to get here.
Magic Kingdom at Mile 5
The Princess Half Marathon course starts in the EPCOT parking lot, winds out onto the highway toward Magic Kingdom, passes the Grand Floridian, the Wedding Pavilion, the Polynesian, and the Contemporary, enters the Magic Kingdom around mile 5, and exits around mile 6 before heading back toward EPCOT. Around mile 12, you’re backstage at EPCOT, then briefly inside the park before heading to the parking lot finish line.
The official 2024 Princess Half Marathon course. Start and finish at EPCOT, with Magic Kingdom right in the middle. Mile 12 is where things got real.
For me, the Magic Kingdom is the emotional heart of the race every single time. Walking onto Main Street and seeing Cinderella Castle — during a race, in the bright morning light with thousands of other people — is something I genuinely cannot describe adequately. It’s overwhelming in the best possible way.
This first Princess race was also extra special because my mom came with me. Normally mom and I do an annual trip in May for the EPCOT Flower and Garden Festival. But for this race, she wanted to be there. She was standing outside the Contemporary Resort as we walked up the hill toward the Magic Kingdom — and seeing her face in that moment put real fuel in my tank. She then hopped on the monorail to meet me at the finish line. More on that in a minute.
I felt genuinely strong for the first 6 to 8 miles. I did take a bathroom break inside Magic Kingdom (flush toilets! always worth it) and stopped very briefly for a castle photo. That cost me about 6 minutes total — which I didn’t realize at the time was actually pretty expensive given my pace. But I was loving every moment. The people watching, the characters here and there, and at one point on the course — a full-size pirate ship. I mean, come on. Only Disney.
Still smiling somewhere on the course. This was before I knew how the next few miles would go.
Miles 8 Through 12: The Math Gets Uncomfortable
Around mile 8, a cast member called out that the balloon ladies were two minutes behind us. That rattled me — I had convinced myself I had more cushion than that. Between my bathroom break, the castle photo, and my pace being slightly slower than I’d planned, I’d spent more time than I realized. I pushed harder and gained a little space back.
By this point, it was full daylight and the temperature was climbing toward 80 degrees. That sounds manageable, but I’d spent months training outside in Chicago. My 14-mile training walk had been on a 42-degree day. Eighty degrees was genuinely toasty to me.
I should also mention: I get very red in the face when I exercise, especially in heat. I am fine — I know my own body — but to someone who doesn’t know me, it can look alarming.
At around mile 10.5, there was a hill. Technically an entrance ramp on a highway, but I promise it felt like a mountain. The course has bike medics riding up and down, checking on racers. One took one look at my face and I think he was convinced I was in serious trouble. I told him I was fine. He did not fully believe me. From that point on, he checked on me every half mile or so, which — honestly, in retrospect — was kind of wonderful. Disney takes guest safety seriously, and that care was real.
Around mile 11, the balloon ladies caught up with me. I walked with them for a bit and then fell slightly behind. As we approached the mile 12 marker and headed toward EPCOT, one of the balloon ladies pointed toward the buses parked nearby and warned those of us nearby: stay with us or ahead of us, or those buses are your ride to the finish.
I pushed hard. I passed the mile 12 marker just a few feet behind the balloon ladies.
Mile 12.5: The Moment That Broke My Heart
And then I made a mistake.
We had reached EPCOT. I thought I was safe. In my head, the hard part was over.
I was not safe.
I let off the gas. Within moments, the balloon ladies were 50 yards ahead of me. Then 100. We were backstage, and I was still moving — but not fast enough. Mr. Bike Medic came by again and urged me to catch up. I tried to run. But the tank was empty. There was nothing left.
At approximately mile 12.5, the bike team stopped me and pulled me from the course. They said I was too far behind, and that they were genuinely concerned about my color and my condition. I was not in danger of passing out — I knew that — but they didn’t know me. All they could see was a woman who looked like she was struggling hard in 80-degree heat.
I respect their decision. I understood it. And it absolutely broke my heart.
Twelve and a half miles. So close. And my mom was sitting at the finish line waiting for me.
They put me in a van with four other women who had been swept from the course and drove us to the medical area near the finish line. We were given water and Gatorade and an opportunity to check in with the medical team.
Mom. The woman who waited at a finish line for a daughter who didn’t come through it — and loved her exactly the same anyway.
Finding My Mom
With roughly 20,000 participants and thousands of spectators, getting a text through was nearly impossible. I couldn’t reach her. She knew something was wrong when she saw the balloon ladies cross the finish line and I wasn’t with them. She started making her way toward the gathering area near the finish, where there were food trucks and meeting spaces.
I had found an empty patch of ground and sat down, crying my heart out in my disappointment. I kept sending texts that weren’t going through. And then, somehow — by some combination of persistence and luck — she found me.
She was awesome. She made me feel so much better, even though I hadn’t technically finished the race.
What I Learned About Myself That Day
It took some time, but I am genuinely proud of that race.
It was my first half marathon in more than ten years. My first solo race ever — every previous race I’d walked alongside someone else, with encouragement and support right beside me. This one I did entirely on my own, at 56 years old, carrying significant extra weight, in heat I hadn’t trained for.
And by the time they pulled me from the course, I had already walked 12.5 miles of the 13.1-mile course. Combined with my walk to the transportation, the monorail, and moving through EPCOT that morning, I’d covered 14.5 miles on my feet by the time my race was finished.
I learned that I can push myself to do hard things. I learned specific things I needed to do better: train for heat, fuel myself more intentionally during the race, and never, ever assume I’m safe until I cross the finish line.
And I wore that finisher medal — the one they give to every participant regardless of whether they crossed the line — with real pride. Not because I finished. Because I showed up alone, I went 12.5 miles, I didn’t quit the first time it got hard or the second time or the third time the medic suggested I stop. I kept moving.
I won a war with myself that day.
The post-race celebration was earned. Every single sip.
What Came Next
At the end of that race weekend, I already knew I was coming back.
The next year — 2025 — I signed up for the Fairy Tale Challenge, which means walking a 10K on Saturday and the half marathon on Sunday. And I finished both.
But that’s a story for another day.
Are you thinking about doing your first runDisney event? I’d love to help you plan the whole experience — from training to travel to race day. Drop a comment below or reach out through the links in my bio.
