Life, Inspiration, Tackling New Challenges and Learning to Write
Friday, December 4, 2009
A few months ago I posted running a marathon as an item on my list of achievable goals. I’d like to inform you of adjustments/progresses in regards to that goal since the time of its posting. To be completely honest, when I first penned the goal I was unaware of exactly how many miles a marathon was. I had, for the most part, never ran (except for in grade school when you have to run the dreaded annual mile.) I’m not sure what I expected, but upon hearing it was the some-kinda-insanity 26 miles I quickly downgraded the goal to a half marathon. It didn’t take more than moment more for me to acknowledge that, yes indeed, that means a half marathon is 13 miles. Barf. Due to my ignorance, I decided to train for the next half marathon. It was a late Saturday morning, I had a steady, 90 year-old-ish hobble going down my street. A mere 3 blocks later I was whimpering from a fresh bee sting on my ankle and, having stopped to nurse my wound, suddenly found that I felt extremely nauseous. I had a moment of panic. I felt like my stomach was going to empty itself in both directions and I was going to die of thirst at the same time. I frantically scanned my surroundings for a drinking fountain, none. Though I was within five minutes of my house I folded onto a patch of grass in front of a huge Graham Cheverolet sign on the corner of an intersection, sucking in deep slow breaths. As the damp grass soaked into the seat of my pants two other joggers moved gingerly up the sidewalk. I tried to hide the distressed expression on my face and fidgeted with my shoe laces as they swiftly passed me. It was then that I realized that I didn't have a clue and 13 miles is a lot. So again, I downsized my half marathon to a marathon relay with three other people. I requested the shortest leg, 4.7 miles. Amazingly enough, since that dreadful morning, I have managed to run four miles with some regularity. In part because four miles is the exact distance from my house to my boyfriends and back. That way I can burst through his door and demand to know his plans for the night while having a little water break and showing him that I‘m athletic. I know what some of you are saying, “Pah! Four miles? I did that when I was five! I run 15 miles a day!” And to you I say, you are crazy and need to get some other hobbies. But truly, I don’t need that. I am so proud of myself for actually saving my brownie till later, shutting off the reality TV show, putting on the insanely tight sports bra and stretchy pants, all to go sweat like a pig and run like a sissy with my mouth gaping open for four triumphant miles as my neighbors drive by and wave.
Having said that, I must tell you that the marathon relay I was planning to run in is this Sunday. Have I trained? Yes. Have I resolved to getting up at the ass-crack of dawn in thirty degree weather? Yes. Unfortunately, my teammates are not in the same boat. Maybe it’s because they’re all married and so aren't in need of an excuse for a surprise visit to their boyfriends house. I don’t know, but the race for team Runners Up is officially off. You may think I feel pretty disappointed. But I don’t. As I said, it is a miracle in itself that my running shoes even see daylight. Cheesey may it be, but I feel like a winner. Plus, now I can enjoy the open bar at my company Christmas party this Saturday night.
Runners Up has decided to try the run again in May when it’s not so cold at 6am. My leg has been upped to about 7 miles. Yes!