I made a stupid comment the other day. To one of my running friends. Out of the blue, I said, “I think I’m going to try a 1/2 marathon.”
Understand I haven’t been running, “for real”, since October.
What the heck possessed me in that moment? ˜
Sure, I want to start running again. I need to start running again. There’s the physical aspect (how strong I felt when I was running) but there’s also the emotional benefits. Change is the ONLY constant in my life right now. I remember finishing a run, physically drenched with sweat and sometimes sick to my stomach, but having enough endorphins in my system to take me through most of the day.
I need … something. Today, walking through the grocery store, I realized I was talking myself down the entire time … warding off an unwarranted panic attack. My life is good. Incredible, even. And yet there is this constant unknown that stalks me. I often use “busy” as my drug of choice, because it keeps me focused away from whatever is happening in my heart. And “busy” is acceptable, because it gets stuff done, and there is always someone willing to accept help for something.
Running did that for me. I was better — consistently better — when I was running 3-4 times a week.
But really? A half marathon? There is no way I could do that. I’m old, and out of shape. I lack discipline. I’m really a lazy person, so to even start running again seems like such a stretch … and yet, the idea that I could run 13. 1 miles? I mean, seriously?That’s a little more than 6 1/2 miles one way, turning around, then running all.the.way. back to wherever I started from.
I looked up a walk/run plan that would get me race ready by the third week of October. Do you know that part of that plan has me going 10 miles at a time on some beautiful fall Saturday yet to be determined??!!?? I just don’t know …
Commitment. It’s not something I’m known for. I’m good at follow through, but the whole “getting me to commit” is a big thing for me. Still, the idea of doing something I absolutely thought would never, ever interest me is intriguing.
If you would have told me a year ago I would have flown 15 hours to see my kids in China, I might have said, “Yeah, probably not.” If you would have told me I would make a good chunk of the food for a wedding reception of 300-ish, I would have said, “Not likely.” If you would have hinted to me I’d shoot my first wedding for my nephew and actually enjoy it — and felt fairly competent in the process — I would have shook my head. If you would have told me a couple of years ago I’d actually enjoy being a part of a local church, I would have probably said bad words to you.
So … I don’t think this “thing” is out of the question. I’m not willing to jump in quite yet. But I have stopped saying “No freakin’ way.” I’m finding that without some type of challenge, I will simply grow old. And that’s NOT my plan. Half marathon? Maybe that’s the next thing. I guess we’ll see …