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.