4 hours and 51 minutes later I crossed the finish line with a huge smile, arms in the air, and breathed a huge sigh of relief. And then the floodgates of tears opened. I cried because I was so tired, so excited to be done, but also so emotional that I could check something so big off the bucket list.
And it all began eight weeks ago.
I'm not sure what possessed me to wake up one morning and decide I was going to run a marathon. Somehow I felt inspired to lace up the running shoes, go for a jog, and decide that I would start training right then and there. I never stuck to the training schedule (as you may have read in previous blogs,) but I endured cold weather, blizzards, being chased by dogs, getting stuck in drainage ditches, and the most painful shin splints.
And all for what?
Since Sunday I've been asked many times, "Was it worth it?" and "Would you do it again?" People just shake their head and laugh as they watch me hobble by in pain, wondering why anyone would ever put themselves through this. At first I didn't understand it either. Some days it would be so hard to get out and train and I would almost convince myself that it wasn't worth it. But now I get it. While everyone in the race is unique and runs for different reasons, I feel like there are two types of marathon runners: those who race, and those who run. I am a runner. I am not in it to win it, or in it to accomplish a certain time; I simply run until I stop. As I ran on Saturday I watched people around me and saw myself in so many of them. They were in the zone, practicing what they had worked for for so long, and telling themselves "you're almost there." Many shirts said "Running in remembrance of..." or "In it to finish." I ran behind one girl for almost 22 miles and her shirt said "The feeling of pain is nothing compared to the feeling of quitting. Keep running." I read that one over and over again to myself. Just keep running.
I felt very moved and inspired by all the spectators on the streets of Fargo and Moorhead. People smiled and cheered us on, many of whom I'm sure knew no one in the race; they just felt compelled to cheer on thousands of strangers. My bib had my name on it so it was quite surreal to run by and hear "You can do it Jenny!" "Come on Jenny, you're almost there!" I was sweating, red in the face, and breathing hard but I didn't care because I was surrounded by thousands of others just like me. Every racer was putting his or her pain on display for the whole city to see. Raw pain, humility, passion, and desire.
And then it was over. I crossed the finish line alone, completely elated, and then stopped. I thought I would be so glad to stop running, to be able to sit down, but it didn't feel right. I felt like I should keep running, just keep moving. The rest of the day was hazy and surreal. Everyone kept asking me, "How was it?" but explaining the experience was like reliving a great dream. Details were blurred, time seemed irrelevant, and I felt very alone, but in a good way.
So was it all worth it? Imagine waking up from a great dream and being able to slip back into the wonder of it all a second or third time. Would I do it again? Absolutely. Wouldn't you?
Monday, May 23, 2011
Saturday, May 14, 2011
7 days to go...
Whew, it's been awhile since I've written but let me tell you - life has not slowed down for a second. In the midst of all this training for a marathon I managed to finish my thesis, write a 15 page final exam, present my research to the department, organize a going away party for Dave and I, pack up the entire apartment and move back to the midwest. I got a few runs in here and there but there were certainly more days I just said "Ugh...I hate running." It's been exhausting and I've been less than motivated. Let's take the run I did two weeks ago as an example...
I planned on doing a 14 mile run, mapped out the whole thing, stretched, and prepared the night before. Oh boy, nothing could have prepared me for this treacherous run. It started out alright, albeit slightly chilly. The road I was running on started to head out of town which, in Montana, means the shoulder disappears. I was running on a road where cars were driving 70 miles past me, dust was flying up in my face, and the temperature was dropping. Suddenly, at about 4 miles, two vicious dogs came running out of their house, barking violently at me. "No!" I was yelling and commanding them to stop. "Sit!" They kept barking, coming closer and closer and I had nothing to do, so I ran faster! "NO!" Imagine me running, yelling at these two dogs to "sit! go away!" as cars were racing past me without hesitation. And then it happened again another mile down the road! An annoying, ankle-biting chihuahua came racing out of its trailer park, barking and foaming at the mouth (ok, that may be an exaggeration,) trying to bite me. Luckily I could just kick that one out of the way.
I thought the worst was over, but I was wrong. I reached a bridge that I could not run across without risking my life, or at least a few limbs, so I thought to myself, "well, I can just hike around it. The ditch doesn't look that bad." So I climbed over the bridge and into the ditch, which quickly dropped off into a marsh of broken glass and barbed wire. I found myself avoiding thorny bushes, questionable bags of garbage, and climbing over drainage pipes, all the while balancing on an extremely steep embankment. Finally I made it out, said a few curse words, and finished the first half of the run. I was planning on running in and out but after the disastrous start I thought it would be better to take another route home.
I dipped under the interstate and decided to take the frontage road home. About half a mile into it the wind picked up to a steady 60 miles an hour. Road signs on the interstate were shaking, debris was flying out of the ditch, and my shirt kept coming up as cars drove by. "Are you kidding me!" I yelled to the sky. "I hate running!" Each step felt like I was lifting a twenty pound weight on each foot. I could hardly move my legs, I was freezing cold, and a slight drizzle had started to pelt my face in the gusting wind. Cars whizzed by and I secretly hoped one would hit me so I could be taken to the hospital where they have warm beds.
But I finally made it, after a couple of walking sessions, lots of loud yelling into the wind, and maybe even a few tears. As I was walking the last block back to my house my neighbor rode by on his bike and yelled, "Come on, you baby - run!" If I had a stick, it would have been thrown into his bike spokes.
I hate to say it, but I have hardly run since then. I am staying with my parents right now and the temperature has been near freezing with pouring rain. How am I supposed to train in this? It's far easier to sit back and watch "I Used To Be Fat" on MTV. But today I bought new shorts and an amazing zebra tank top from the 1980s, (which I will proudly sport during the race,) and it has inspired me to get back in the game. So tomorrow is a biggie - 18 miles. My dad is going to meet me half way as an "aid station" with water. (I told him to ride his bike so I'm not tempted to jump in the car.) After that I am going to focus on biking and endurance training, trying not to injure my legs before Saturday. I feel like I have the endurance to complete this thing if my legs and hips can withstand the pain. That means lots of massaging, ibuprofin, energy gels (yuck,) and motivational words. Any positive reinforcement is encouraged!
7 days to go....wow.
I planned on doing a 14 mile run, mapped out the whole thing, stretched, and prepared the night before. Oh boy, nothing could have prepared me for this treacherous run. It started out alright, albeit slightly chilly. The road I was running on started to head out of town which, in Montana, means the shoulder disappears. I was running on a road where cars were driving 70 miles past me, dust was flying up in my face, and the temperature was dropping. Suddenly, at about 4 miles, two vicious dogs came running out of their house, barking violently at me. "No!" I was yelling and commanding them to stop. "Sit!" They kept barking, coming closer and closer and I had nothing to do, so I ran faster! "NO!" Imagine me running, yelling at these two dogs to "sit! go away!" as cars were racing past me without hesitation. And then it happened again another mile down the road! An annoying, ankle-biting chihuahua came racing out of its trailer park, barking and foaming at the mouth (ok, that may be an exaggeration,) trying to bite me. Luckily I could just kick that one out of the way.
I thought the worst was over, but I was wrong. I reached a bridge that I could not run across without risking my life, or at least a few limbs, so I thought to myself, "well, I can just hike around it. The ditch doesn't look that bad." So I climbed over the bridge and into the ditch, which quickly dropped off into a marsh of broken glass and barbed wire. I found myself avoiding thorny bushes, questionable bags of garbage, and climbing over drainage pipes, all the while balancing on an extremely steep embankment. Finally I made it out, said a few curse words, and finished the first half of the run. I was planning on running in and out but after the disastrous start I thought it would be better to take another route home.
I dipped under the interstate and decided to take the frontage road home. About half a mile into it the wind picked up to a steady 60 miles an hour. Road signs on the interstate were shaking, debris was flying out of the ditch, and my shirt kept coming up as cars drove by. "Are you kidding me!" I yelled to the sky. "I hate running!" Each step felt like I was lifting a twenty pound weight on each foot. I could hardly move my legs, I was freezing cold, and a slight drizzle had started to pelt my face in the gusting wind. Cars whizzed by and I secretly hoped one would hit me so I could be taken to the hospital where they have warm beds.
But I finally made it, after a couple of walking sessions, lots of loud yelling into the wind, and maybe even a few tears. As I was walking the last block back to my house my neighbor rode by on his bike and yelled, "Come on, you baby - run!" If I had a stick, it would have been thrown into his bike spokes.
I hate to say it, but I have hardly run since then. I am staying with my parents right now and the temperature has been near freezing with pouring rain. How am I supposed to train in this? It's far easier to sit back and watch "I Used To Be Fat" on MTV. But today I bought new shorts and an amazing zebra tank top from the 1980s, (which I will proudly sport during the race,) and it has inspired me to get back in the game. So tomorrow is a biggie - 18 miles. My dad is going to meet me half way as an "aid station" with water. (I told him to ride his bike so I'm not tempted to jump in the car.) After that I am going to focus on biking and endurance training, trying not to injure my legs before Saturday. I feel like I have the endurance to complete this thing if my legs and hips can withstand the pain. That means lots of massaging, ibuprofin, energy gels (yuck,) and motivational words. Any positive reinforcement is encouraged!
7 days to go....wow.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
"Just let me be mad, ok!" (28 days til the marathon)
I am in a good 'ol fashioned bad mood. It makes me laugh when I think back to the first week of "training" about a month ago and I was happy and excited about running a marathon. Now I want to spit on my running shoes, scream at my shins, and get fat on potato chips. Ugh - people warned me that my happy-go-lucky attitude would leave but I didn't believe them. It was probably the stupid "runners' high." (Can you hear my bad mood seeping out of this blog?)
It all started on Thursday when the sun was shining and I heard a new kind of bird. I heard the song of a pretty bird out my window and as I sang a little song in my head (la, la, la) I thought to myself, 'Ahhh...spring is on the way.' Sound happy? Well, I was. I rode my bike to the gym and by the time I left, only an hour later, it was puking snow out of the sky, blowing horizontal to the ground, and the temperature had plumetted. I stepped outside in my sandals and literally said, out loud so everyone could hear me, "Are you frickin KIDDING ME!" Had I jinxed spring only several hours earlier? (I think that was a bird from hell, sent from Satan to trick me.) So then my glorious evening was spent studying in the library, for FOUR hours, with a total of three other people in the whole building.
The next day I decided to ditch the books, ditch the training, and head out to the ski resort for one last weekend. First run down....injury. My shin splints, which had gotten so much better, were throbbing and I could barely make it down. I just wanted to cry I was so angry. I was upset at the weather, at the end of school workload, at this "stupid" marathon, (that was the word I used at the time,) and the fact that I couldn't enjoy the last weekend of skiing with friends. So I went home early and went on a miserable run. I called mom to complain but she didn't want to listen. "Mom! Just let me be mad, ok?" What a Friday.
And that brings us to today. The sun was shining, not a cloud in the sky, and every person I knew was up at the resort for a beautiful blue-bird day...except me. I wrapped my legs, went and bought some energy gel crap, and went for a run. Oh god, have you ever tasted those gel packets? It's like eating glue. But maybe it worked because I got a good 45 minutes in and felt great. I even ended the day by lounging in the front yard in the sun.
All in all, things could be worse. I just needed to whine a little bit so you don't think I'm actually excelling at this training thing. I have 28 days to train and 26.2 miles to master. Within that time I have to finish a 20 page final, finish my 65 page thesis, defend my research, graduate, move out of the house, and find a job in Minneapolis. Oh yeah, and consume a lot of energy gel packets. I think I'm going to need a lot more than "gu" to get me through these next three weeks.
It all started on Thursday when the sun was shining and I heard a new kind of bird. I heard the song of a pretty bird out my window and as I sang a little song in my head (la, la, la) I thought to myself, 'Ahhh...spring is on the way.' Sound happy? Well, I was. I rode my bike to the gym and by the time I left, only an hour later, it was puking snow out of the sky, blowing horizontal to the ground, and the temperature had plumetted. I stepped outside in my sandals and literally said, out loud so everyone could hear me, "Are you frickin KIDDING ME!" Had I jinxed spring only several hours earlier? (I think that was a bird from hell, sent from Satan to trick me.) So then my glorious evening was spent studying in the library, for FOUR hours, with a total of three other people in the whole building.
The next day I decided to ditch the books, ditch the training, and head out to the ski resort for one last weekend. First run down....injury. My shin splints, which had gotten so much better, were throbbing and I could barely make it down. I just wanted to cry I was so angry. I was upset at the weather, at the end of school workload, at this "stupid" marathon, (that was the word I used at the time,) and the fact that I couldn't enjoy the last weekend of skiing with friends. So I went home early and went on a miserable run. I called mom to complain but she didn't want to listen. "Mom! Just let me be mad, ok?" What a Friday.
And that brings us to today. The sun was shining, not a cloud in the sky, and every person I knew was up at the resort for a beautiful blue-bird day...except me. I wrapped my legs, went and bought some energy gel crap, and went for a run. Oh god, have you ever tasted those gel packets? It's like eating glue. But maybe it worked because I got a good 45 minutes in and felt great. I even ended the day by lounging in the front yard in the sun.
All in all, things could be worse. I just needed to whine a little bit so you don't think I'm actually excelling at this training thing. I have 28 days to train and 26.2 miles to master. Within that time I have to finish a 20 page final, finish my 65 page thesis, defend my research, graduate, move out of the house, and find a job in Minneapolis. Oh yeah, and consume a lot of energy gel packets. I think I'm going to need a lot more than "gu" to get me through these next three weeks.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Day 1 of Re-Training (34 days until race day)
Back on the saddle! Well, let's just say the saddle's a little loose and I wouldn't want to jump over any fences quite yet. If you got lost in that metaphor, what I mean to say is that I'm feeling a lot better but still not "race day" better.
It's been twelve days since I stopped running and I am back at square one. I have asked lots of questions, researched, and listened to far too many opinions, but all I learned is that my body will tell me when it's time to run again, not anyone else. Last week I got my second X-ray of my whole life to determine if I had stress fractures or not. Good news - no fractures! So I kept off the pavement for awhile and started cross-training like crazy. I was running on the elliptical (borrring,) biking on the stationary bikes, and boxing twice a week. Yep, I am in Pink Gloves boxing. It is the most amazing feeling to work so hard you feel like you're going to throw up and then walk into the center and punch the trainer's gloves as hard as you can until you can't lift your arms. So with countless mountain climbers, push-ups, high knees, and jump roping sessions, I feel like I didn't lose a lot of cardio. Now I just need to cut back on the beer and pizza and I should be good to go!
But oh my god...34 days? Are you kidding me! Within those 34 days I have to finish two papers for school, ski the last weekend of Big Sky resort, defend my graduate thesis, actually graduate, plan a going away party, pack up the apartment, and move back to the midwest. Oh yeah, not to mention train for a full marathon. Whew, let's see if I survive this thing!
Day one of re-training....34 to go.
It's been twelve days since I stopped running and I am back at square one. I have asked lots of questions, researched, and listened to far too many opinions, but all I learned is that my body will tell me when it's time to run again, not anyone else. Last week I got my second X-ray of my whole life to determine if I had stress fractures or not. Good news - no fractures! So I kept off the pavement for awhile and started cross-training like crazy. I was running on the elliptical (borrring,) biking on the stationary bikes, and boxing twice a week. Yep, I am in Pink Gloves boxing. It is the most amazing feeling to work so hard you feel like you're going to throw up and then walk into the center and punch the trainer's gloves as hard as you can until you can't lift your arms. So with countless mountain climbers, push-ups, high knees, and jump roping sessions, I feel like I didn't lose a lot of cardio. Now I just need to cut back on the beer and pizza and I should be good to go!
But oh my god...34 days? Are you kidding me! Within those 34 days I have to finish two papers for school, ski the last weekend of Big Sky resort, defend my graduate thesis, actually graduate, plan a going away party, pack up the apartment, and move back to the midwest. Oh yeah, not to mention train for a full marathon. Whew, let's see if I survive this thing!
Day one of re-training....34 to go.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
45 days until race day: Injury
Day 12 of training, 45 days to go.
I was kidding myself if I really thought I would stay motivated until race day. Let's just be honest, I am miserable. Sore, cold to the bone, shin-splinnting miserable. Last Friday I went on a nine mile run - nine miles! - but that was the peak. I took the weekend off (as a reward?) and traveled three hours to visit breweries and bar hop, leaving a trail of motivation behind each pint glass. Bad choice.
I was kidding myself if I really thought I would stay motivated until race day. Let's just be honest, I am miserable. Sore, cold to the bone, shin-splinnting miserable. Last Friday I went on a nine mile run - nine miles! - but that was the peak. I took the weekend off (as a reward?) and traveled three hours to visit breweries and bar hop, leaving a trail of motivation behind each pint glass. Bad choice.
Monday was a day of misery. A northern wind whipped through the city with sudden gusts and bouts of rain. I was torn between knowing I should train, and a feeling of dread emerging out of the storm clouds. The black clouds hung like a devil on my shoulder, whispering to me, "No, you don't want to run, why would you want to run in this rain?" But my bright white, pretty shoes were singing, "Frolic! Let's run a marathon!" Who knew that training for a race would be a dichotomous battle between good and evil?
So I ran, but I regretted it. I have no shame in saying the devil won that battle. I had to cut it short because of severe shin splints and shooting pain in my legs. I hobbled home, knowing I was defeated.
Tuesday was even worse. I told myself, quit being a baby and get running! I had such a great run on Friday, only four days earlier, so maybe the pain was mental. Woah - was I wrong. Each step sent pain shooting through my bones and into my back. My feet were going numb. I had to grit my teeth to stop my eyes from watering. I started limping at 2.5 miles and had three miles until home. It was 30 degrees outside and the wind whipped my bare legs and arms. Shivering, cursing this stupid goal, I limped three miles home with the cold rain hitting my skin and my shins screaming at me.
Success? Hardly. I would love to say that I am learning how to run in miserable conditions, and learning how to push through when I'm tired, but that is far from the truth. I am in so much pain that I can't even run. So what am I learning here? I'm learning to keep the fridge stocked with beer and make sure the peas and carrots are frozen when I get home so I can ice my legs. This week I am going to switch to biking and the elliptical (yuck) and, hopefully, let my shins heal. This whole running thing is new to me so I'm not sure exactly what I am supposed to do. I am open to suggestions of any kind.
45 days to go...will I ever make it?
45 days to go...will I ever make it?
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Fargo Rock City (50 days to go)
Day 7 of training, 50 days left.
So far so good. Not great, but good. I have run five of the last seven days, but I'm not where I want to be right now. It is just so easy to sit down and have coffee with an old friend instead of running in bad weather. And let me tell you, we've had bad weather. So far I've been stuck in a horrendous blizzard, rain showers, and 40 mile an hour gusting wind. What am I putting myself through? The good thing is that I'm training at between 4500 and 5000 feet above sea level. That has to count for something, right? The marathon, which is in Fargo, ND, is at 900 feet.
Speaking of which, I can't believe I forgot to mention that the marathon is in Fargo Rock City! Some of you may laugh at the mention of Fargo, but you are truly missing out. With winters colder than Antarctica, summers hotter than Georgia, and bugs the size of dinosaurs - it's a gem! No, but seriously, the marathon's website boasts that the best thing about the race is the people, and it's right. And I'm not the only one who thinks so. Last summer Newsweek ran a double spread on how Fargo is on the up-and-up, and becoming a mini-metropolis.
http://www.newsweek.com/2010/07/02/the-great-great-plains.html
Unemployment is low, the state's budget is steady and healthy, and Fargo's cultural scene is growing at a rate similar to Minneapolis. But the people are what it's all about. Sure, if you go into Fargo looking for close-minded conservatives, you're going to find them. But if that's what you're looking for in any city, you will find them everywhere. With the race motto, "Rock fast, rock friendly, run Fargo," you just have to laugh at the kindness that is embedded into the city.
A few years ago I was home for some time in the spring and got to watch the race. The entire city was out with lawn chairs, decorated signs, and fog horns. I'm sure that many people didn't know a single person in the race; they were simply there to support their neighbors and give Fargo a good name. I'm told that local gymnastics teams, string quartets, and bands at every mile will be there to encourage the runners on. How can you scoff at a city that brings out the local marching band to cheer you on?
If you need another reason to appreciate Fargo, turn on the local news this time of year and watch the Red River flood updates. Neighbors watch out for one another, making sure no one is in harms way. School is canceled and stores forced to close so everyone is involved in sandbagging and volunteering to save the city. It has become a way of life, a sort of return to the days when homesteaders took on the burdens and workloads of their neighbors, not because they had to, but just because. I will bet you that, when asked why they help out in the city, many people of Fargo would say "just because it's what you do."
So everyday I run I imagine myself running down the familiar streets of Fargo, watching people cheer, dance, sing, or whatever they'll be doing that day. When I will struggle, (and I will struggle,) I know that I'll have the people of Fargo Rock City to carry me to the finish line.
So far so good. Not great, but good. I have run five of the last seven days, but I'm not where I want to be right now. It is just so easy to sit down and have coffee with an old friend instead of running in bad weather. And let me tell you, we've had bad weather. So far I've been stuck in a horrendous blizzard, rain showers, and 40 mile an hour gusting wind. What am I putting myself through? The good thing is that I'm training at between 4500 and 5000 feet above sea level. That has to count for something, right? The marathon, which is in Fargo, ND, is at 900 feet.
Speaking of which, I can't believe I forgot to mention that the marathon is in Fargo Rock City! Some of you may laugh at the mention of Fargo, but you are truly missing out. With winters colder than Antarctica, summers hotter than Georgia, and bugs the size of dinosaurs - it's a gem! No, but seriously, the marathon's website boasts that the best thing about the race is the people, and it's right. And I'm not the only one who thinks so. Last summer Newsweek ran a double spread on how Fargo is on the up-and-up, and becoming a mini-metropolis.
http://www.newsweek.com/2010/07/02/the-great-great-plains.html
Unemployment is low, the state's budget is steady and healthy, and Fargo's cultural scene is growing at a rate similar to Minneapolis. But the people are what it's all about. Sure, if you go into Fargo looking for close-minded conservatives, you're going to find them. But if that's what you're looking for in any city, you will find them everywhere. With the race motto, "Rock fast, rock friendly, run Fargo," you just have to laugh at the kindness that is embedded into the city.
A few years ago I was home for some time in the spring and got to watch the race. The entire city was out with lawn chairs, decorated signs, and fog horns. I'm sure that many people didn't know a single person in the race; they were simply there to support their neighbors and give Fargo a good name. I'm told that local gymnastics teams, string quartets, and bands at every mile will be there to encourage the runners on. How can you scoff at a city that brings out the local marching band to cheer you on?
If you need another reason to appreciate Fargo, turn on the local news this time of year and watch the Red River flood updates. Neighbors watch out for one another, making sure no one is in harms way. School is canceled and stores forced to close so everyone is involved in sandbagging and volunteering to save the city. It has become a way of life, a sort of return to the days when homesteaders took on the burdens and workloads of their neighbors, not because they had to, but just because. I will bet you that, when asked why they help out in the city, many people of Fargo would say "just because it's what you do."
So everyday I run I imagine myself running down the familiar streets of Fargo, watching people cheer, dance, sing, or whatever they'll be doing that day. When I will struggle, (and I will struggle,) I know that I'll have the people of Fargo Rock City to carry me to the finish line.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
A World of Pain
It all began in tenth grade creative writing class. It was the "slacker class," where we ate breakfast, talked about the weekend, wandered the halls, and started arm wrestling matches in the back corner. We had sporadic assignments where we had to journal about our family, fears, dreams, or whatever was going on in a 15 year old brain on a Tuesday. I didn't think much of the assignments at the time. They were simply another thing to check off the to do list. Except for one, which has stuck with me all these years.
September 10th, 2001 "50 Things To Accomplish In My Life." #37: Run in a marathon (or walk)
At least I was reasonable with myself. It was definitely a goal and not a dream. I hated running, despised it in fact. It made me sore, tired, angry, and I thought it was just pointless. But for some reason I felt that it should go on the bucket list between #36: Climb a really big tree, and #38: Go whitewater rafting. My hatred for running lessened as I got older and realized I might have to put in a little effort to be able to fit into those skinny jeans. But it was still a love/hate relationship. Last summer it started again, with the goal of running my first 5k and working up to a 10k and maybe one day a marathon. That dream was abandoned once ski season started and the PBR flowed like water.
But something changed. I woke up last Thursday with new snow at the ski resort and for a reason unbeknownst to me, I decided I was going to run a full marathon. Not only was I going to run the whole thing, but I was going to train in seven weeks. I know what you're thinking; I'm thinking the same thing only four days into this mess. But I registered ($80) and bought new shoes ($90) and now I can't give up (priceless.) Ok, gag me. This is not some inspirational commercial or a "you can do it too!" sort of ad. This is me struggling. To the extreme. I may cry or even throw up a few times, and you can follow me the whole way. Join me!
The marathon is May 21st, which gives me 52 days to train. Who am I kidding? I don't know how to train. Run, I guess. A lot. Probably stretch, maybe do jumping jacks? The first night I decided I was going to run this thing I got overwhelmed with my "training schedule" and had to sit down and have a beer while I thought things over. Not off to a great start. But today I did run 6.43 miles (according to www.mapmyrun.com,) which is huge for me. I was so proud when I looked at the Google map and could say, "I ran that far!" But let me tell you, my spirits sank when I looked at a map and saw how far 26.2 miles is. Oh boy, it's not just far, it's depressingly far. I mean, like "there's-no-effing-way" far.
So here I sit at 6.43 miles, with only twenty more to go. 52 days left!
September 10th, 2001 "50 Things To Accomplish In My Life." #37: Run in a marathon (or walk)
At least I was reasonable with myself. It was definitely a goal and not a dream. I hated running, despised it in fact. It made me sore, tired, angry, and I thought it was just pointless. But for some reason I felt that it should go on the bucket list between #36: Climb a really big tree, and #38: Go whitewater rafting. My hatred for running lessened as I got older and realized I might have to put in a little effort to be able to fit into those skinny jeans. But it was still a love/hate relationship. Last summer it started again, with the goal of running my first 5k and working up to a 10k and maybe one day a marathon. That dream was abandoned once ski season started and the PBR flowed like water.
But something changed. I woke up last Thursday with new snow at the ski resort and for a reason unbeknownst to me, I decided I was going to run a full marathon. Not only was I going to run the whole thing, but I was going to train in seven weeks. I know what you're thinking; I'm thinking the same thing only four days into this mess. But I registered ($80) and bought new shoes ($90) and now I can't give up (priceless.) Ok, gag me. This is not some inspirational commercial or a "you can do it too!" sort of ad. This is me struggling. To the extreme. I may cry or even throw up a few times, and you can follow me the whole way. Join me!
The marathon is May 21st, which gives me 52 days to train. Who am I kidding? I don't know how to train. Run, I guess. A lot. Probably stretch, maybe do jumping jacks? The first night I decided I was going to run this thing I got overwhelmed with my "training schedule" and had to sit down and have a beer while I thought things over. Not off to a great start. But today I did run 6.43 miles (according to www.mapmyrun.com,) which is huge for me. I was so proud when I looked at the Google map and could say, "I ran that far!" But let me tell you, my spirits sank when I looked at a map and saw how far 26.2 miles is. Oh boy, it's not just far, it's depressingly far. I mean, like "there's-no-effing-way" far.
So here I sit at 6.43 miles, with only twenty more to go. 52 days left!
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