I made a promise to myself that I would run a half marathon by the time I’m 50 (or sometime that summer). The promise was almost a full marathon but after talking to several women over 40, I decided against it.
And now the time is swiftly approaching (18 months!) so I’ve been actually out there giving it a shot, running every other day with Bamboo (whether she wants to or not). Yes, I can only run about 10 minutes at a time and yes I feel like I’m going to barf up a lung before, during and after, but I feel, for some reason, that this is something I MUST do.
All my life I’ve had these dreams about being able to run far and long (sometimes before alighting off the ground) and I’ve always felt like a runner inside. It just never really came to fruition in real life. I’ve tried several times but now I really WANT it. I feel hungry for it, oddly enough. I’ve just never been able to really DO it.
(So, hey, why not wait til I’m older and my knees are a bit shot and it takes 3 times as long to get into shape as it would if I were, say, 30? Or even 40? Why indeed.
First race: Run for Fetal Hope November 13th right in my back yard at Denver’s Washington Park. Odd cause to choose, I suppose, but fetuses need hope and I needed a 5K in November. What a good match we are.
My very athletic and sporty iron-man triathlete friend, Katrin, will bring Bian to cheer me on. I think I may have chosen Katrin on purpose: I don’t want to feel like an absolute piece of jello if I can’t run a measly 5K. Katrin would never, ever laugh or make fun or say or even think anything bad; she’s just too nice of a chick. But I’d feel like a total loser. And who wants that?