So yeah, I’m running a half marathon in April.
Yes. I have looked in a mirror. I know.
Eleven weeks to train. Should have started sooner, but I’m a sucker for procrastination. This isn’t new.
Thing is I want to do this. It seemed like a great idea back in October. As I’ve entered middle age new items have wiggled their way onto my bucket list. If you had asked me five years ago if I would ever run for hours–on purpose–the answer would have been a resounding NO. And yet, here I am preparing for a half marathon. Believe me. I’m pretty shocked myself.
Last week I was on the treadmill a-huffin and a-puffin begging the minutes to move more quickly when the tears started welling up in my eyes. I wasn’t going to do it. There is no way I could complete this thing. I didn’t have enough time to train. I am too out of shape. I waited too long to begin. The race people would be all packed up and gone by the time I even limped into the neighborhood of the finish line. My friends would have gotten tired of waiting figuring I quit and gone home thinking they’d find me there. Everyone–and even worse I–would know I was a big fat loser.
Thank god the treadmill TVs block my reflection in the mirror. The self-hating was kept moderately in check.
The next morning–and I’m not really sure if I was looking for an excuse to quit or a making desperate last grab at making myself proud–I sent a Facebook message to my friend Michael asking if this was even possible. Michael started doing triathlons five years ago. I knew him before. He’s changed his life. Now he’s so into it he’s coaching other athletes. DO NOT THINK FOR ONE MOMENT I AM CALLING MYSELF AN ATHLETE (yet). But I knew that Michael would know if I could do it.
His answer–without hesitation–was YES.
And that was all I needed–or at least I thought so until we started chatting some more.*
See I just needed someone who knew what kind of training it would take to tell me I could do it. I have given birth twice–stick with me here. The first time I was pregnant I read those stupid books about giving birth and I freaked out. What had I done getting pregnant?! I didn’t want to go through delivery! The baby was going to have to figure another way out because I was NOT going through what that book described! By show time though I got through it. And you know how? That silly old Dr. Sears told me I could and with his faith I convinced myself that I could put up with anything for twelve hours if it meant getting to meet my baby at the end. And now I have Michael telling me that I can do it. In eleven weeks I can get myself ready to complete a half marathon. So you know what I’m telling myself?
I can do anything for eleven weeks if it means that I will cross that finish line.
*Next up, we’ll examine why having lived with an addicted sibling is getting me through this. Kids I have lots of time running to entertain myself with these thoughts. I apologize now for sharing them with you.