With a capital "D."

I'm sad, angry, and frustrated. The "why" of it doesn't really matter, only that it's due to circumstances beyond (way beyond) my control. I went for a walk to try and settle my thoughts, but no luck. I just keep thinking that right now I could really use someone or something powerful and good to believe in.

I don't know where to go from this... Dysfunction is mentally debilitating. I can't understand anyone else's motivations, I can only make my own choices and hope they're good ones.

Just let go.

Why? Because letting go allows space for something new (and possibly better but definitely different) to enter.

I discovered how much I enjoyed yoga only to have the yoga class cancelled after tonight. April, the instructor, handled the situation with such grace that it really made me stop and think about what matters and how I handle disappointment. I need to learn that strength. I need to learn to stay optimistic. As she said (and I know), I cannot control the situation. I can only control my reaction and the choices I make.

Let go. Make room for something new. This may be my New Year's resolution.

White out.

Yesterday's weather provided a reason not to run-- we had a blizzard. And yet today I feel guilty. How do I run in this stuff? I just found a blog that recommends screwing screws into the soles of one's sneakers to avoid slipping. Sounds a bit radical but maybe I'll have to try it given the weather report for the upcoming few weeks. I could dust off my cross-country skis and head out but they require a fair amount of coordination and it's hard work. Just had a funny realization-- I'm a lazy exerciser (I hesitate to refer to myself as an athlete).

At any rate, I'm getting a little bit of cabin fever (it's only been two days, but I am really feeling antsy). I'll have to attempt the park tomorrow and hope it's clear. Maybe I'll have better luck in the woods...

I can't downward dog.

So I went to yoga for a second class. Last week I felt rather "ho hum" about the whole experience. This week I really liked it. I'm uncoordinated and struggle to figure out how to move my shoulders and back but it's fun. I definitely like the more active approach-- it feels so good to have space in my body from the stretching.

The other part I like is that the monkey mind is forced to focus and concentrate. I can't worry about my thighs and "downward dog" simultaneously.

Tomorrow it's back to the park for a run. It's supposed to be cold, but it doesn't matter (hah). What matters is that I'm continuing to carve out space for myself.

Taking care.

I need to learn to be kinder to myself. I need to learn to practice "taking care."
Last week when I was in yoga I was envious of the instructor's body. (Yes, I was in yoga but I'll leave that downward dog for another post.) While I was supposed to be stretching and locating my "heart center" I was actually engaged in intense observation of my body's (perceived) shortcomings.

This must stop.

I need to celebrate my fitness and my health. The whole Margo situation really puts things into perspective. At least I thought it had. It really should have. And yet I still obsess about my body and what it should do as opposed to what it can do. I need to learn to love myself as I am. How corny.

"Love the one you're with" echos in my head... I'm with me. I need to love me.

Reality control.

I'm back to the idea that I need to create my own reality (again). The last time the goal was to see myself as a runner. Done. I am a runner. Now what? What new reality do I want to live? I'm open to suggestions.

Adrift and floundering.

There is serious danger in drifting. It saps time and energy. It allows doubt. It feeds boredom. Two weeks and already I'm at a loss of how (and where) to direct myself. I need to refocus and commit myself to something-- a goal of some sort to get me moving forward.

Full Moon Running

The moon was full. The air was clear. I ran for joy, not mileage, not time, not preparation. I ran to feel myself moving along the path. It was wonderful.

The past few days (since the marathon) I've been trying to answer the "Now what?" question or rather, "What now?" What should I do now that I've completed my marathon goal? What should my next challenge be?

Today it occurred to me that a better (and somewhat more intriguing) question for now is "What do I want?" The first thing that pops into my head as an answer is "to go to Cambodia."

My heart knows this is true.

Whatever the question, I know the answer. I just need to quiet the noise and listen.

Blame the wine.

I just applied for a spot in the 2010 NY Marathon. What the hell am I thinking? It's admission by lottery so I won't know until March if we're (Beth applied too) in, but yikes! What if? I would do another marathon? The plan only called for ONE. Philly. Done. Move on.

I'm blaming the wine. Clearly too much of it has addled my brain and obscured reasonable thinking.

Do I even like running? I mean, honestly? I like my thighs more now that they've put in almost 400 miles. I like my brain on most days after I run. But training again? What have I done? I guess I don't need to worry about it just yet seeing as I have several months before I even know if I'm accepted. For now I'll just run and feel joy and relax.

Maybe I'll have another glass of wine.

Done.

I did it. I ran a marathon in 5 hours, 33 minutes and 11 seconds. I wasn't fast. I wasn't as strong as I would have liked, but at no point did it occur to me that I wouldn't finish. I was there to do 26.2 miles. Period.

So why do I feel so deflated today? Where's that euphoria that accompanies the accomplishment of a goal? I've been working toward this event steadily since August. It felt like I was in the right place on the road yesterday. I felt good. Tonight I just feel kind of "meh." Where is my endorphin high? I earned it. I should be floating.

Or not. Maybe because I expected it, I couldn't have it. Maybe in trying to chase happiness, it eluded me. Maybe I'm thinking about this way too much.

So now what? Another goal? No. I need to absorb this one. Give me a couple of days to gain some perspective.

I am a llama. I am a runner. I am a marathoner. I am.

9 hours 16 minutes 33 seconds--Powerhouse and Hammer are ready.

In about 9 hours I will run my first marathon.
What audacity.
Me.
A marathon.

I have logged 338.45 miles run since Saturday, August 1. I have acquired two pairs of sneakers, multiple tanks, shorts, socks (both lucky and less-lucky) and tees (two of which were earned at races), a really nice set of bruises from my fall, a really cool GPS unit, a hat, one bout with poison ivy, and a love of running that I never would have imagined I had the capacity to embrace. All this from a book.

I am a runner. I run because I am strong, I am confident, and I am fit. I run because I can.

And tomorrow I will say that I am a runner because I entered, I trained, and I finished.

Counting down.

This afternoon is my last run before Sunday's marathon. It's hard to believe that it's here-- August doesn't seem that long ago yet it's been a lifetime in terms of preparation. I'm excited, nervous, but somehow believe that I can do this. It's something I'm supposed to complete. I don't know how or why I feel this way, but that's been a feeling buried in the back of my mind since I decided to undertake this challenge.

It's bedtime. I ran my final 3-miler tonight. I've gone from a 1/4 mile to 20, from 14+ minutes to just under 11. I have a 3-mile walk scheduled for Saturday and then 26.2 miles on Sunday. Am I ready? I have to be.

To do or not to do.

I am sitting here drinking my hot cocoa and thinking about what matters. All day I've been considering priorities and choices. Why do we choose what we choose? How do we decide what matters most?

I think this is on my mind because of my struggle with routine. Entering the marathon and then training for it forced me to organize my time and plan so that I could "fit" running into my world. What will happen once the race is over? Will I still have that dedication? I feel good when I run; I feel better when I'm finished. I know this now. I like feeling like I've accomplished something positive for even a small part of my day. I like that running makes me feel like I have control over my time, my body, and my brain.

But why is it so difficult to continue doing that which is good for me? What else could I accomplish if I applied the strategy from this training to other aspects of my life? Why is it so difficult to jettison habits like procrastination and stubbornness that are counterproductive and wasteful?

As always there are more questions then answers.

Start again.

How come just when I understand how it feels to be happy it disappears? Just slips away and I have to go out seeking it again and of course, that's not the way to find happiness. It will appear when it's darn good and ready.

Or that's how it feels anyway.

I'm up. I'm down. I'm running in joy. I'm struggling to get out of bed. What's the deal? I thought I'd undergone a total transformation. I was on my way to decisive confidence and self-love. (I mean hell, I wrote a love letter to my thighs.) But tonight I'm wallowing again in these feelings of unworthiness and disappointment. Why? What will it take for me to be happy?

I will review what I'm thankful for before I go to sleep tonight. I will start again tomorrow and invite joy.

The day after.

I ran twenty miles yesterday.
Wait. Let me repeat that.
I ran twenty miles yesterday.
I ran twenty miles and today I feel great. I'm not sore. I'm not tired. I'm happy. It's such a strange sensation-- I feel relaxed and just happy.

Yesterday was the last of the long runs. Alan came along on his bike and carried my water, Gatorade and snacks. (He also provided the entertainment.)

From here on out it's a rapid decrease in order to build to the final increase. It seems too soon to taper off, but I am going to trust The Book.

If I feel this good after running twenty, how good will I feel after 26.2?

I am a runner and I have the callouses to prove it.

On Thursday night I had a "running epiphany"-- I understand now how this can be addictive. When the run is perfect-- weather, pace, time of day-- everything just magically clicks. The endorphin rush is unbelievable and what's more, it lasts for hours. A good run = joy. Of course, the problem is reaching that "joy point" each time.

Tomorrow will be my final long run. Althought the official schedule calls for 18, I'm planning to run 20 miles. I want the mental "boost." After tomorrow, I start cutting back. the race is in three weeks.

And now it is raining outside and I'm sitting here wondering how else (other than in pants size) this experience has changed me. I feel different, but I'm not sure how. I'm proud that I've stuck to the schedule. I didn't quit. It was difficult on some days, but I didn't quit. I think that's why I was so anxious this week about my sore knee. I didn't want to miss a day because I'm afraid that I'd start to think that since it was okay to miss that run, maybe I'd skip another one because I'm tired or busy or ... But I didn't skip. I readjusted the schedule and reduced the mileage a bit, but I didn't skip.

I don't have any more insight tonight. I am getting excited because tomorrow is November 1 which means only 21 more days!

By the way...

I forgot to mention two important events from Sunday's run. First-- I passed a pair of chubby-bottom-girls. They were running on the canal. They'd come on about 2 miles from where I'd started and were moving steadily and I passed them. It took awhile but I did it. I smiled inside as I called, "On your left." Actually, the inside smile was more of a gloat or a smirk. That's okay- I earned it.

On a related note, I also passed two old(er) men who were walking. Came up from behind, called out, and whizzed right by them. Okay, so I didn't really "whiz" past. It was at about mile 16 so perhaps "stumble" is the more appropriate word choice. Doesn't matter. Again, I felt affirmed in my running prowess. (It's the little successes that keep me going.)

Tonight I did 4 miles around Roebling/Florence. I had to come home after work and didn't have time to hit the park. I was slow and sluggish tonight. It doesn't really matter (there's that phrase again) what the GPS says. I was slow. I wonder if this is residual tiredness from Sunday's run. I'm beat. Ah well, tomorrow is another 8.

18 down.

With an average pace of 11:27, I ran eighteen miles today. I walked more than I wanted to-- I have to in order to eat and drink. Can I do another eight on top of this? I don't know. I have to believe that I can. There's only one more long run to go and then it's reduction (they call it "tapering") to the marathon.

Next weekend will be my final long training run. I never would have imagined that I could do this. I am proud of myself.

Now I need to shower. After the endorphins have dissipated and I've relaxed, I'll write some more.

To Washington Crossing and beyond.

Tomorrow I will run 18 miles. Wow. Normally that long run would have been today with Sunday as the recovery day, but I fell on Wednesday night and that threw the schedule off. So tomorrow I will run farther than I've even imagined I could. Eighteen seems so much more than 16. It isn't. I need to keep my brain in the right place and my legs pumping and I'll be fine. No, I'll be great. (Need to exercise this positive self talk.) I only have two long runs left-- tomorrow and then next weekend. After that I begin reducing in preparation for the marathon. I'm starting to feel excited. I will be running a marathon in less than a month's time. Suddenly what was really only theoretical (me running 26.2 miles) is going to become reality.

To bed tonight. Here's a toast to tomorrow's success.

Feeling lumpish.

I'm in a bit of a slump. I had errands to run (no pun intended) yesterday and home repair- related responsibilities today and now I don't much feel like going out for my 8 miles. I'm sitting here trying to persuade myself to go and get changed and get outside, but the positive self-talk isn't very effective at the moment. I know I'll go eventually because not going really isn't one of the options.

I need to get back to that happy place from last week. I've been pretty down on myself for the past few days although there's really no reason for it. I don't know, maybe just feeling overwhelmed. Too much thinking about things that are (at least for the moment) unanswerable. I'd rather go take a nap. It's already after 5. I could shift my runs to tomorrow and Friday, but that would really throw off the whole schedule. I need to suck it up, find my shoes, and hit the road.

I am a runner. It is beautiful outside. I do not miss training days. I have a responsibility to myself. I am a runner.

Now what?

I started by writing about the weather and how I've run in heat, rain, and cold. I scrapped that and began by stating that as of today I've run roughly 230 miles since the first week of August. Again, I have nothing to follow that statement so I scrapped it too.

And now I'm sitting here wondering why my good running feeling, my high, my flow, has dissipated leaving me with a vague feeling of discontent and disappointment. Last week was amazing. I felt like I could conquer the world. I was strong. Today? Not so much. No llama here. Tonight I just feel tired and angry and disappointed and I don't know why. It's not the running. I did four miles. Felt good. Finished strong. It's confusion in my head and my heart. The old demons are back poking around and I don't feel like dealing with them.

Nothing more to say tonight. I'm tired and may just turn in early. Tomorrow is another chance to start fresh.

One more for the night.

Body part discussions aside, tonight was the hands down best run I've had since I've started training. As I ran, I was thinking that this is what happiness feels like. Weird, huh? This must be the "flow" that they talk about, the "runner's high." I ran fast. I covered my five miles in record time. I just felt so good. I am excited to run tomorrow and looking forward to tackling this week's 16-miler on Saturday. Yep.

Who knew?

I had no idea that my butt was the object of so much attention. On Friday I was told that my jeans (that I thought fit well) were giving me saggy-ass (or some similar affliction). Today a work buddy commented that I needed to get this race over soon since I had lost my butt. She said that I'd had a good butt and now it was gone (she prefaced all this by saying she didn't mean any weirdness and considering the source, no offense was taken). While in the midst of this conversation another coworker chimed in saying that she too had noticed that I was now butt-less but hadn't said anything. These are my friends (and relatives).

So the question is, why do people only comment when it's gone? When I gain weight back post-marathon, will people suddenly compliment my newly regained bottom? Is it somehow more appropriate to discuss a shrinking body part than a growing one?

It cracks me up to think that I am not the only butt-watcher out there. You know, doing the butt comparison thing. You check out other butts and then rank where you fit. Maybe that's just me...

Still here (and still boring) part 2.

I keep hoping this running stuff will get easier, but so far it's still "work" every time. Yep-- at some point in every run I struggle.

I struggle mightily when chubby girls with big bottoms pass me on the trail. (I realize that my comment is politically incorrect but I don't care. It's not fair that I've put in miles and miles and still get passed by women who appear to have as much physical stamina as a creampuff.)

I struggle when I can't catch (never mind pass) old guys with wrinkled knees who are walking.

I struggle to catch my breath, calm my brain, and lift my feet.

The biggest struggle is deciding to put on my sneakers and get out each training day. I tell myself I'm excited and really, part of me is. But then there's the other part, the doubting part, that wonders why I'm doing this to myself. It's hard. It's tiring. It's time consuming.

Yet, I am doing this. I have a choice; no one is making me run. I could make excuses. I could just stop. But something is keeping me on schedule. On some level, I must like doing this.

Perhaps I'm masochistic.

I'm still here.

My boring-ness (or would it be "boringosity"?) has reached epic proportions. My life is work, food and running (although not necessarily in that order; food is probably the most important).

Actually, running is a little bit like work. It definitely demands the time of a second job. Maybe I should pay myself to run? I read an article in a running magazine where the woman trained for a marathon and "paid" herself a dollar for all the miles she ran in training. She had in the vicinity of $700. My rough calculations suggest that by marathon time I will have run about 400 miles since the beginning of August. So $400. That's a fair amount of money. $400 could get two (and a half) pairs of Frye boots. It could cover 100 Starbucks nonfat chi lattes with a slice of lemon loaf. If could be Christmas gifts for the family. It could be a plane ticket to someplace mildly exotic. $400 is a lot of money in my world. Of course, if I paid myself by the hour, I could make more. Actually, I don't think I could afford my hourly charge. Wait-- that doesn't work out. Nevermind.

Well?

Still waiting.

No epiphany yet.

Thighs are seemingly displeased with me and have not felt the need to inform the power of the universe that I should now be invited to join a higher plane.

In retrospect, maybe my love letter sounds too much like an apology or a justification. Maybe I need to try harder. Nah. There must be some other way to improve my karmic account.

Oh, and I ran four miles today which brings the current weekly total to 14. Fourteen more on Saturday.

A love letter to my thighs.

Several years ago I acquired a book entitled Three Black Skirts. The premise was that one's wardrobe (and presumably, life) could be simplified through this "all you need to survive" book. Budgets could be followed. Clutter could be eliminated. A broken heart could be healed.

While I don't remember much else about the contents of the book (I suppose I could go look since it's still on my shelf), I do remember something about writing a love letter to the body part you dislike the most. If I recall, the author's was to her "bottom." I guess embracing one's "uglies" is liberating. To me that's way more interesting than rearranging a closet to attain spiritual clarity. Okay. Fine. In an effort to boost my self-esteem (and possibly improve my cosmic destiny) here I go: A love letter to my thighs.

Dear Thighs,

I don't know how to start. What should I say to my thighs? I mean, really? Maybe I should go consult the book to see how to approach this... Do men worry about these things? Somehow I don't think so. I digress. Let me get the book.

I know in the past we've had issues, but I'm trying to come to terms with you. To be blunt, I always wanted you to be something other than what you are-- a pudgy expanse of swollen flesh and the reminder (and evidence) of my donut infatuation. I'll admit I'm weak. I wanted you to be thin, vein-less, and toned. I wanted perfection.

It's taken a long time to reach the realization that I've been wrong. I should love you as you are because true love means accepting you, weird veiny things and all. You're strong, you're dependable, you're well-matched. And through the insight gained through many miles of running, you're unlikely to change. I now appreciate how you carry me through each day, even if you do that weird jiggle thing.

Does it really matter that because of you I can't fit into my "skinny" pants? Can't wear shorts above the knee or cute little skirts (black or otherwise)? I suppose not.

Actually, that's not a strong enough denouncement of my vanity given the assignment. Let me try again.

I say "no."

I'm done worrying about how you appear to others. If I love you, what others think won't matter. I will dress you in pants that flatter, skirts that accent, and shorts (well, maybe I'll just forget about the shorts for now).

Next time we're out on the trail and I'm agonizing over your wobble, I'll remind myself that you're strong enough to carry me wherever I want to go. (And then I'll proceed to fixate on a different body part I'd like to change, like maybe my butt.)

With love,
C.


That's all the energy I can muster for now. I may need to revise at a later time. I'm waiting for some sort of spiritual epiphany from the release of the negative body image feelings. Maybe I wasn't sincere enough.

This makes writing about imaginary running partners seem normal.

At a loss for words.

I keep trying to come up with a post to end last week and welcome this one but I'm uninspired. Have I run out of "nothing" to say? Is that possible? Has my life become so wrapped up in running and working that nothing else comes to mind?

Saturday I attempted to run 14.6 miles; Sunday I read a novel cover to cover.

I'm going to clean the office (still de-cluttering) and ponder my unexciting, uninspiring current state.

Nice day for a run.

Actually, seems like most any day is a good day for a run. High seventies, low humidity, clear blue skies made for an easy 4 miles today. I can tell that I was tired because the only thing I focused on was my feet hitting the pavement. No imaginary running buddies came along; no new slogans (or names for body parts) presented themselves. No bananas. I tried to think about plans for work, but just couldn't muster any interest. I just focused on the run. While that makes for a quick workout, it doesn't offer much by way of interest for writing.

Tomorrow is a longer run. I'll have more to talk about after that. One interesting thought-- I am in week 8. I am halfway to my goal. That's what I'll meditate on tomorrow-- goals.

You can't run with a banana in your pants.

Maybe that should read, "You shouldn't run with a banana in your pants." Or more specifically, "I shouldn't run with a banana in my pants."

You guessed it. I planned my mid-run snack in the form of a nice, healthy, banana. I figured that since I seem to run better with a banana in my belly that it made sense. Not so.

There is no good way to carry a banana on a run. If you clutch it (even gently) in the non-water bottle hand, it feels (and looks) like a weapon. Forget about tucking it into the sports bra strap. Doesn't work. At all. I tried. As for the short's waistband, let's just say the bouncing, not to mention the unsightly, unexplainable "bulge" (either off the the side or in the back) leads to some funny looks from others on the trail. So there's really only one viable solution: eat it early.

After struggling for about two miles to carry it, hook it to the water bottle or tuck it in, I gave up and just ate it. It was delicious. The downside was that at the midway point when I was ready for my snack, I had none. I need a better plan.

Snack malfunctions aside, today was about the most perfect day for a run. Temperature in the mid-50s, blue skies, no humidity. It was absolutely beautiful. I'm still walking more than I want to on the long runs. I really need to figure out the food thing so I have consistent energy. I did somewhere around 12 miles. I think it was a little more than that. I didn't have a good way to measure the route exactly, so I just kept going.

Tomorrow's an "off" day and then it's back to an easy 4 for Monday.

Introducing 'Powerhouse' and 'Hammer.'

How is it possible that I can run 6.6 miles faster than I can run 4? Isn't there some law of the universe that would prevent that circumstance?

I couldn't run Monday so I pushed the "short" run to Tuesday. To condense a long, not very interesting story, let's just say it was not one of my better days. I should not run if I am any of the following: hungry, thirsty, or tired.

After Saturday and then Tuesday, I was discouraged and needed to really chat myself up (you know, tell myself how I'm fabulous and love running, and have made a commitment that I need to honor and all that positive feel good stuff) in order to run on Wednesday. The weather was bad (again) and oddly enough, that's what finally convinced me to go. I took on that "I'll show you" attitude (you know the one-- it's more bluster than sense) and went out in the downpour to run my 6 miles.

I was soaked before I left the parking lot and hit the trail. But it didn't matter. (It really didn't.) I felt light and happy and strong. It was so different than the previous day. It felt good to move. I had the trail to myself and just listened to my feet hitting the pavement, measuring off the distance.

At one point the trail winds along the edge of the lake. There's a rowing team that practices there. On Wednesday, I could hear their coach reprimanding them from the pace boat. I guess they weren't pulling correctly or something. Anyway, he told them to remember that they should rely on and trust not only their strength, but the strength of the others in the boat. He used some pretty colorful adjectives but as I ran past I just kept thinking about him yelling, "You're a powerhouse. You're a hammer. You're a powerhouse. You're a hammer."

Meet my legs: Powerhouse (on the right) and Hammer (on the left). I kept chanting "Powerhouse. Hammer. Powerhouse. Hammer. " for the rest of the run.

What a great day.

Today I followed up with a fast, short run of only 2 miles. (Only 2 miles-- hah!) Saturday is a 12-miler. I am ready. Powerhouse and Hammer will carry me wherever I want to go. :)

Not running; just thinking.

I should be in bed, but instead I'm sitting here thinking about why we do what we do or more specifically why I do what I do. Is it impulse? Just plain stubborness? I'm back to disecting this need I have to prove myself and then the follow up question, "What will be enough?"

Week six is now history.

I ran 11.6 miles today and while that's a new "record," I have mixed feelings. It was by turns a great run and a frustrating run. To begin with, it rained-- a light mist to a downpour-- throughout the morning. I have decided that I like running in the rain. I really enjoyed the feeling of being washed. I know, sounds odd, but I can't really explain it. Tobin has been on the past two runs. In life he couldn't be bothered to stay with me on a trail, but as a "ghost" he sticks right by me. What else? I didn't hurt. When certain songs came on, I felt like I could lift off and run forever. Actually, that's kind of how the run ended up being a bit longer than anticipated.

So why am I not ecstatic with my achievement? Again, only five weeks ago I was struggling to run 3 miles. Eight weeks ago I could barely run one. I think part of it is the stopping. I kept walking today for some reason. I don't know why. I wasn't winded. My legs were a little tired, but not horribly. I felt like I just couldn't concentrate. Maybe the music is too much of a distraction although I'm not sure I want to be alone with my thoughts for any length of time. That's the other issue. It took me so long to run those miles. I know I stopped and started, but I felt like I was moving faster than I have been. According to my calculations, I'm running somewhere in the vicinity of a 13-minute mile. People walk faster than that. I don't know why this bothers me so much, but it does. I don't want to be fixated on the time. I want to focus on the accomplishment.

So now, today, I ran 11 miles and I still feel some vague disappointment and dissatisfaction with myself. Why is it so difficult for me to feel happy and proud of me? I need to reconnect with my inner-llama and get my head in the right place. I've committed to doing this marathon and I intend to do it right. Doing it right means that there is only one goal that needs to be met-- I want to finish strong. That's it. I want to run 26.2 miles and cross the finish line smiling, proud of my accomplishment.

Just thinking.

I've hit this week's mileage targets and feel more comfortable on the longer runs than the short ones. Once I get to about four miles I start to cruise. Miles one, two and three? Not so much. I struggle. I guess I'm a slow starter.

Tomorrow's Saturday and I'm scheduled to run 11 milesbut right now that seems like an impossibility. I am so tired and while readjusting to work takes time, I feel like there's something else bothering me but I don't know what. I thought running would help settle my mind, but this week it's been on overdrive. I've been fighting a mental soundtrack and the ubiquitous white noise background all week. I just want to find my way to peace. Maybe tomorrow's run will help me get there.

After my run, the plan is to clear out more of the clutter. I have to finish sorting the Goodwill pile and clear out the garden. Maybe clearing the physical clutter will clear the mental clutter. Maybe I'm just tired and a good night's rest will clear everything by itself.

Come run with me.

I have decided not to accept the evidence of the pedometers. Create my own reality? You bet. I don't care what they say, they're wrong. In any case, I ran in a different park tonight, one that has a marked course. I did my five miles and actually had a really good run even though it's been a long day. One thing I liked about today's course was the variety-- there are hills. Small hills, but hills nonetheless.

As I was running, I started thinking about how nice it would be to have a running buddy. (I know-- I'm supposed to calm the monkey-mind and focus on form and balance and peeling my feet etc. I don't.) I know some runners, but they aren't local (and they're much faster than me). As I ran, I mentally discussed the benefits a running buddy would offer-- advice, competition, company. I decided to "invite" the runners I know to join me-- kind of like imaginary friends I had as a kid but not completely because these are people who really do exist. Suddenly, I was flanked by my (imaginary) running siblings. Both were telling me to keep breathing (actually, B. was talking to me while S. just jogged along silently). Then I considered the other runners I know who would have enjoyed being on the trail tonight and invited them-- J. was there from Florida, A. from work, even D. from work showed up for a little while.

Eventually there was a group of us trotting along. It was the strangest feeling because I could "see" everyone. I felt like I was being supported and encouraged and strengthened. Everyone didn't stick around for the entire run, but came and went as I needed them. S. was there the whole time and raced me at the end.

As I reread this post, I think maybe the endorphins are getting to me.

It must be wrong.

That's the only logical explanation for why I struggle in the park. According to my pedometer (which I don't trust at all), the park run loop is only 1.67 miles around. If that's true, it took me 45 minutes to run 3.4 miles. That averages out to 13+ minute miles. How is that possible? How can I feel like I'm struggling to complete under three and a half miles and be so slow doing it?

I tried mapping the run online but I can't see it clearly enough to have any sort of accuracy. I downloaded the park map, but it doesn't have a scale, just trail length distances which if I ran the trails one way and didn't interconnect them would be accurate. But I don't. This is so frustrating because I keep thinking it must be longer than it is based on how I feel, and the time spent. But the pedometer says otherwise.

Maybe the pedometer doesn't work right when I run. We reset it yesterday and it seemed to be accurate for the walk to the ice cream store and back. (Ice cream calories don't count if they're consumed while walking.)

Maybe it is accurate and I'm still weak. That would be a horrible revelation at this point. Nearly as horrible would be the realization that I struggled for weeks to be able to run 1.67 miles and the hubris to imagine I'll be able to run 26. It makes me question myself and wonder if my other measurements are accurate or if I'm somehow tricking myself. If I was struggling with 3, how did I do 10? Maybe I didn't. Is that really a possibility?

UPDATE: In order to satisfy my obsession with the length of this trail, we went back tonight and walked it. It measured an additional tenth of a mile. So after two independent pedometer readings and three laps around the park, it's "official"-- It's less than 2 miles. Yes, I'm upset.

Ta dah.

Okay so "Ta dah" may be a bit much for today's achievement, but I am so excited (and full of myself) that no other headline feels right.

I ran ten miles.

That's right. Ten. (Okay, in all truth it was actually 9.8 when I went back and recalculated, but I think I'm allowed to round up.)

I decided to see if the sneaker-store guy (who suggested my gait had more in common with an elephant than a llama) might be right about the running surface and my ankles so I ran the canal path today instead of my neighborhood route. I hate to admit it, but it seems he was partially correct. (Limited discomfort kicked in about mile 8 by my estimation but I still don't like my shoes and will continue to blame them.)

I love the canal and it was really nice to run the path. I was so happy and comfortable (today's weather was perfect for running) that I couldn't quite believe it when I made it to the turn around point. The whole way back my internal conversation went something like this: "Are you sure that was the five mile mark? I'm pretty sure. I mean, I'm running ten miles. I can't believe it's really ten miles. Are you sure this will be ten miles? Ugh, my toes are asleep. Ten. I must have miscalculated the route-- there's no way I'm already this far. How come I'm not tired? Oh look, a turtle."

I made it back to the car, stretched, and decided to verify my route calculations (as close as possible since the canal and the road are not exactly parallel) just to be sure that I didn't goof like I did on Monday. (That was such a disappointment.) And although it was a little short, I essentially ran ten miles and felt good doing it.

It took me two hours and I did walk when I needed to drink, but I ran ten miles which is four more than I've ever run before and the equivalent to what I ran the whole rest of the week. If I can run ten, I can run 12, then 14, and eventually 26.2.

Now it's time for a shower and then a pedicure. I've earned it.

5.4 and 3.3 = Progress.

I am trying to stay positive. I missed my long run this weekend due to circumstances beyond my control. Sometimes life trumps the best planned program. I was going to run on Saturday morning-- I had it planned so that I would be back on track after my Parisian sojourn. But Saturday was too soon after my other runs (and really rainy) so I figured I'd do it on Sunday. No problem. Sunday dawned (I was up to see it). I was tying my shoe and ready to go for my long run and the phone interrupted. Family wins.

So I ran yesterday. I had mapped out an eight miler but due to time constraints, only did part of it. I thought I'd done between 6 and 7. I was wrong. When I went back later and mapped it with the car, I'd only done 5.4. Short 2.6.

Okay. It's time to focus on the positive. I had a really good run. I've missed the river. There are so many memories tied up with that area that running there again felt effortless. Wait-- did I just suggest that I ran 5 miles effortlessly? Yep. I wasn't winded. My legs felt strong. And while my mental focus drifted to various topics, none were related to pain, anguish, or discomfort of running. I need to sort through some of my thinking from the past two days. (I've been having interesting conversations with myself.) In short-- I was in "llama-state" for about an hour. (Yes, it took me somewhere in the vicinity of an hour to run 5 miles. In theory I'm a llama. In reality I'm a turtle.)

Today I'm back home and did 3+. Tomorrow I'll run another 4-5 and then I'm planning on a 9-10 for Friday since I expect to be away for the weekend. Next week I'm back to work and will have to make adjustments again. I can do this but flexibility will have to be part of the plan.

Running in the rain.

I'm feeling downright virtuous. Even though it was raining, I was up at 6 (ish) and out the door for a run before 7. And guess what? I really enjoyed myself this morning. I had fun. I'm sitting here with my hair dripping on the keyboard as I type, but running in the rain makes me feel all clear-headed and refreshed. I did a strong four miles and feel good about myself. My plan is to run seven tomorrow morning and then take Sunday off. Of course, this plan could be reversed depending on how my ankles feel. (Yep-- still having some problems there. I'm halfway convinced it's the shoes since I never had a problem before.)

So yesterday and today as I ran, I thought about the idea of simplification. (I know, I know-- I'm supposed to think about running but I get bored. It's monkey-mind at its finest.) I keep feeling like my world is too cluttered which contributes to stress. I have too much stuff. So how do I simplify? What stays? What goes? Some things have no purpose other than beauty or whimsy-- but does that mean they're not valuable? I don't think so.

This whole simplification idea really started when I realized how much I love to travel but spend money on other things that I don't need any more of-- like clothes. So on the road to simplification, my first order of business is a thorough evaluation of my closet and then a moratorium on shopping for any clothes until after January. (I haven't decided if this moratorium applies to shoes yet as I'm hoping to replace my well worn, beat up boots this year. How strict should I be with myself?) After the closet, I"ll move on to the things that are just clogging up space in the office. If I don't love, need it, or appreciate it, it's out (or maybe on eBay).

UPDATE: Last purchase pre-moratorium was a leopard print cardigan. It's important to have a good, neutral sweater. :)

Je suis runner?

I didn't run. Not once. I thought about running. I brought my sneakers and shorts (and my lucky socks), but I didn't run. My excuse? I was busy being "French." I walked that city like no other city. I think we explored every last one of the arrondisements. (We might have missed a few, but only because I couldn't get us lost enough.) I figure all of the walking should compensate for some of the missed running.

Now that I'm back home I have to get back into the routine. To that end, I lugged my somewhat jet-lagged, semi-dehydrated self out for a three-miler this morning. My legs felt like logs-- not very llama-esque today for sure.

I need to get my mind back into the right "set" and keep moving forward. I know I should have run this week, but I didn't. No excuses. I will pick up where I should be in the training and through this whole "reality creation" decide that the missed miles don't matter. What matters is what happens now.

Back on track.

In reality, I guess I wasn't really "off track" so to speak. I skipped yesterday's run which would have made today the rest day but I ran today so I didn't really miss anything. I ran my four miles and the guilt is gone. Got up at 6 and this time, A. joined me on the bike. It was nice to have company, but a little unnerving to have him watching me run. I don't know if the distraction of company is a good thing because although it gives my monkey mind something to play with, I don't focus which could hurt me in the long run (no pun intended).

Now-- how will I do in Paris? I googled some running routes in the city and looked for some advice. Apparently it's not just crazy Americans who run there. I really want to get out and see the city in my sneakers. I'll have to be really disciplined, get up early, and pay attention to my route so I can find my way "home." Is it weird to be excited about the prospect of running on vacation? I really wish A. would run (or walk) with me. I am supposed to do a 7 miler on Saturday and then a 3 and a 5 to begin week three of training. I'll be happy if I can make two of the three.

I can't wait. I have been packed and ready to go since yesterday morning. I love Paris.

Oh, the guilt.

I shouldn't feel the need to punish myself for missing today, but I do. I missed my run. By the time I dragged myself out of bed it was after 7 and just too humid. I feel so guilty. Today was supposed to be a four-miler and then off tomorrow.

There is only one solution: I will run in the morning to make up for today. I will run the mileage as planned and I will run it strong without stopping. I need to be fully committed to this program if I expect to be successful in November. I am starting with a few marks in the deficit column-- age, physical ability, etc. I need to do all the workouts, encouragement, self-talk. I cannot afford to skip. Why didn't I just get up this morning? Laziness, excuses, and marathons don't mix.

And tomorrow we leave for Paris. I can't wait. I want to be there now. But what of my program? Will my training go out the door? Should I worry about doing it on vacation? How can I not? I feel that if I don't run while I'm there, that I am not fully committed and that I will lose momentum. I packed my running clothes and I'll have to make myself get out. Walking the city and climbing steps will help, but I have to run.

More to follow.

Yesterday was a six mile run and I did it. All of it. The best part about it was how I felt stronger as I went along. I can do this. If I can run six, I can run eight. If I can run eight, I can run ten... You get the idea. I'm really quite impressed with myself. When I started this I couldn't even make it to the corner of the street without having to walk. Now, I am looking forward to running three miles tomorrow morning. Who'd have ever guessed? Create your own reality-- my reality, apparently, is that I am a runner. (Maybe my subconscious knew that all along, but I needed time to catch up.)

I am a runner. I run because it makes me feel strong, capable, and fit (don't like that word, need to find a substitute). I am going to run the Philly Marathon. I am a wild, sexy, wind-in-hair llama and I am a runner. :)

Because I said so.

I ran the requisite 3 miles yesterday. It went well. I felt pretty good, probably because it was a little bit cooler and less humid then it's been lately. I ran without music and mentally started writing my mantra. (The Book says to do this later in the training, but given my lack of focus, it seems like a good idea to start it now.) It begins with "I am a llama."

I am a llama. Llamas love running because they feel strong and happy. They don't mind when it gets tough, they welcome the challenge. I will run the Philadelphia Marathon in November... you get the idea.

I realize I change from first person-- I need to have a stronger association to this running business. I'm not there yet, but I will be. This is, of course, only a first draft. Stay tuned.

Off day.

Just came in from my enjoying my decadent breakfast of oatmeal with fresh blueberries and coffee on the back porch. The only thing missing from my ideal morning is sunshine. It's really overcast. Today's an "off" day. I was halfway tempted to run anyway but luckily good sense has prevailed. No running, just stretching and maybe a walk with the dogs.

I was reading The Book again last night and it really emphasizes the importance of focus. My monkey mind goes everywhere. I think playing music helps; they recommend going without to increase internal focus. Focus. I just can't seem to maintain it. (I know, I know, this is where I'm supposed to say "but it doesn't matter" but in this case, I think it does.) Maybe I need to practice meditation... probably wouldn't hurt.

Tomorrow is a three-miler. I'll try to go sans music and see how I do. I need to write my running mantra to repeat. I already know the first line, "I am a llama." I'm not sure what comes next.

"...but it doesn't matter"

At what point does positive self talk become outright denial? The Book says that when you experience discomfort when running to acknowledge it, but then follow the negative thought with "but it doesn't matter." For example, "My right foot has fallen asleep in my shoe again but it doesn't matter." "My breathing is slow and laborious but it doesn't matter." "I have undertaken an unrealistic goal but it doesn't matter."

At what point does it matter? What is the difference between this mind-chatter and denial? I mean, can I go through life dismissing all of the discomfort and stress? I imagine I would be a happier, more optimistic person, but is that reality? Or maybe this is just part of creating my own reality. More to consider the "I am..." and turning the doubt into a positive. (Or if not a positive, at least neutralizing it.)

Speaking of which, I completed my first week of running and started the second. Even while in Florida I was able to run the plan. Running with company makes a difference but more about that another time. Total for the week was about fifteen miles. Not marathon length, but the most I've ever run. It's a first. From this point forward, it will be all about "firsts." This week will be my "first" run of six miles ever. It's exciting. I'm nervous about the increase but it doesn't matter. (Uh oh.)

I ran the required three miles today and I felt good. Strong. Capable. My legs were heavy at the beginning (but it doesn't matter) but loosened up as I kept going. Imagine that a month ago I was struggling to run the park loop. Tomorrow I will run it twice for my four mile day requirement. I will be light in my shoes, effortless as I move along the trail. I am a llama. I am a llama. Okay, at times I am not fully a llama (but it doesn't matter).

Losing face.

My first official day of training and all I could focus on while running is the fact that my face jiggles when I run. I need to lose weight in my cheeks! Today I kept thinking that perhaps I might be in over my head-- who am I to presume to be enough of an athlete to run 26.2 miles? I know what the book says and I know last night I was all about creating my own reality, but in the harsh morning light I'm filled with doubt.

A few points to keep in mind: I need to run earlier in the morning. It's too humid by 7. I have to eat something before running. Running with a growling stomach is not pretty. Wearing the ipod and listening to Michael Jackson et al really helps distract me.

I did run the requisite 3 miles today, but didn't feel very good. I was hot, tight, and hungry. Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow is my first 4 mile day. I need to "buck up" (or in my case, "llama-up") and focus. I can do this.

Create your own reality.

I really like this idea of creating my own reality. (If the book says it, it must be true.) What does that even mean? If I believe it (and you believe me) it's true? It's an intriguing way to approach the world. I am a llama. Okay-- what does that mean? To me it means that I can overcome challenges that might derail others and although I might slip a bit, I will find my center and succeed. (That's a lot to take from a llama.) Oh, and I'll look good doing it.

My reality today-- I am smart. I am athletic. I am capable. That seems like plenty to start with... (also I'm clearly an optimist).

Yesterday I ran 3.2 miles and what's more, I felt good doing it. Tomorrow the training starts for real. I'm nervous and excited. In reality this week won't be much different than the past two months-- it's the idea that I'm really going to do this that's exciting (and somewhat frightening).

37:39.

Ugh. I am really disappointed in my run last night. I kept trying the whole visualization thing but didn't feel good moving until mile 3. I'll be tired before I'm warmed up.

Okay, enough whining. Focus on the positive.

I did it. I finished. I wasn't last. My last mile was my fastest. I will get stronger. I will get better. I will run 26.2 miles. I will and I am. :)

"Your running looks effortless."

And so my day was made. Yep-- the old couple who walk the dachsund Mollie in the park commented as I jogged past. Good for the ego and the confidence. Effortless. Nice. A little affirmation goes a long way. I am so ready for tonight's race. 5K in Westfield that ends with pizza and beer.

Tonight.

I am so tired tonight. I should have run but it was pouring rain and I had an appt. so I skipped it. I feel guilty. Tomorrow night is the 5K which ends eating pizza and beer. Yum. I am going to have to pre-run to make up for today.

I've been doing a lot of thinking and decided that I've become tired of saying "used to." I used to travel. I used to bike. I used to run. I used to write. I used to be passionate. Everything is in the past. What do I do now? I'm tired of feeling like a "used to." I want to be those things again-- a traveler, a runner, a biker, a writer...

Training for this race is the start. I am a runner, not a casual jogger. I read somewhere that a jogger becomes a runner after making a commitment to race. Commitment is in place, now I just need to do the race.

Okay, am I a writer? Not there yet. I was two summers ago. I reached the point where the day felt incomplete if I hadn't written about my thinking. Somehow it got too hard to keep doing. I need to prioritize. Of course, this is writing but not really the deep soul-searching writing that the journal demands. Although still private, this still feels too public to really delve and discover through words. I'll work on that. If I can train for a marathon, I can rediscover and write from my heart.

I think this is enough for tonight. I will let my thinking continue and go read for awhile. I'm intrigued by the idea presented of making one's own reality.

I am.

Today I felt like a runner. For real. I ran the loop. I looked around. I did my breathing. I focused on my stride. I did it. After weeks of feeling like I'm not progressing, I ran well. I think, as odd as it sounds, that my "pilot light" is helping as a focus. Yep-- my spirit is a blue flame, a pilot light, that burns steadily in my heart. I can see it when I run. Is that weird? Maybe, but I just keep picturing this flame that grows and blossoms when I need strength. I realized that it's always there and that it's always been there-- not always as strong, but inside and "on" just the same. I am. I have strength. I am and that's enough.

Fresh start

Bad weekend emotionally. Really bad. I feel kind of broken and empty. It's time for a reset. I don't know what to do about the head/heart stuff, so I have to refocus on what I can control. Wake up, put on sneakers, go for a walk/run. I know there's good in me. I have to believe there's worth. I hoped that I wouldn't feel so sad this morning. I do. I just don't know how to fix it.

I wonder if everyone goes through these bouts of self-doubt and self-disgust? (I was going to say "loathing" but that is too strong to apply to oneself.)

New day, fresh start, pieces will fall into place and make sense. I don't know how and maybe I can't make the pieces fit, but I have to believe they can and will.

No love letter to my thighs today, maybe tomorrow.

UPDATE: I ran the loop. The whole loop without stopping. I also decided that I have a blueglow pilot light. More about that later.

New shoes.

I earned them and today I bought them. Yep, the long anticipated new running shoes are bright white and ready for action. Aside from the hole in the toe, those old ones must have been pretty beat because the new ones feel completely different. Asics again, but a size bigger (the shoe guy was surprised that I'd managed to gouge out a toe hole) and a different style. Tomorrow will be their first test run (figuratively and literally). I'm actually excited. I can't wait to take my new shoes out and show them the trail. I really hope I can do the whole loop tomorrow. I need to start building up faster for my own mental stability. I mean really, I've been "training" for two months. You'd think I'd be better by now.

This blog has become far less about insight and thinking than I'd originally intended. Clearly I need to work on the mental aspects that initially led me here.

Good news; bad news

The good news is I ran the loop today. The whole loop. Then, after running the loop once, I walked it. Yep-- I double looped. That's the good news. The bad news is that I think the loop is shorter than I thought. Either my pedometer needs adjusting (which is possible since it was a very quick, halfway set up) or I've been struggling to run not around two to three miles but more like a mile and a half. Regardless, I ran the loop today and that was my goal. I have improved.

I am not quite a llama.

Okay, so I'm not completely happy with my performance yesterday. Not quite what I consider "llama-esque" but it's a start. I ran the July 4 four mile race in Cranford. My performance wasn't pretty-- I had to stop and walk-- but I did it. I finished and even with walking averaged twelve minute miles. Not great, but I wasn't last. I really need to work on the mental aspects. I am ridiculously hard on myself.

Refocus. Rather than seeing what I would have improved, what did I do well? First, I showed up. I put myself in the race. I am proud of that. I haven't done that since 2001. Eight years. I ran four miles, not straight, but I did four. I believe I have earned my new sneakers. I focused on breathing and some of the techniques I've been reading about.

I can do this. I knew it wouldn't be easy, but something worth having is worth the work. I love how I feel at the end. I really need that sense of accomplishment.

I'm in.

It's official. I am registered to run the Philadelphia Marathon. This will probably end up as "It seemed like a good idea at the time" stories. I'm trying not to analyze (at least not too much) why I want to do this. I'm not even sure that I like running. And why not simply register for the half marathon. Surely running 13 miles would be enough of a challenge... No. In my mind, I have to do the whole thing.

On a lighter note, I booked a trip for Paris for the end of August. I want to share my love of travel. I've been to Paris enough times to be relatively comfortable with my pidgen French. Maybe I'll practice some new phrases. Only knowing how to ask for the bathroom and for directions is somewhat limiting. Fun, but limiting. I'm ready to leave now. Today. I want out!

I realize just how "simple" I am... new running shorts make me happy. I can't wait for the new shoes-- I almost made the loop completely yesterday. I'm hoping to do it tomorrow and earn my sneakers.

Well?

Do I commit or not? Do I register and take on the challenge of the marathon or just give it up as yet another wacky idea that I've considered? I am torn. I really want to do something that makes me feel powerful and in control. Do I have the time to commit to this? I'm afraid if I wait to long to register that it will be closed and I'll be out of luck. Of course, I could register and if I don't complete the training I'll be out $100. What to do... Do I have it in me to complete this task? Am I strong enough?

Saturday morning

Sitting outside drinking my morning coffee in the sunshine is quite possibly one of my favorite ways to spend an hour. It even beats lounging in bed. Right now, I am on the back porch (that sounds very grand; it's more like a "back stoop") drinking my second cup. Last night's rain has cleared up and this morning is bright, sunny, and hot. I can hear birds and smell my tomato plant. I can't wait until all of the green tomatoes finally ripen. I know that the day will soon become more complicated so for now, I just enjoy this time alone.

UPDATE: I ran yesterday and felt pretty good at the beginning. I still didn't make the whole loop without stopping. No new running shoes for me yet. I will get better. I will do this.

On realization

I've reached an important conclusion. I am undisciplined and therefore, unsuccessful. Yep. I quit when things get difficult. Why is that? On some level, I think I'm afraid of failing so if I don't ever really commit myself to something hard, I will never be the cause (or the recipient) of disappointment. Not a good way to go through life. I see this trend more and more as I look through my recent (1o years or so) history. I don't like this about myself. I don't even think that I'm like this from laziness. Nor am I opposed to working hard. It really just seems to depend on the task and the expectation. I have a history of challenging myself with fairly difficult undertakings but when I look at them closely, they all involve not really having any choice other than to complete the goal. So is that it then? I am more extrinsically motivated to do something than intrinsically? Maybe what others think of me determines what I think of myself? I am really rambling today. The funny thing is, I "prewrote" this entry in my head a few days ago, but procrastinated when it came time to write it down. Even now it has changed significantly from my original thinking. Is it normal to be this age and still feel this confused about life and what I want?

Let me start again. I want to run a marathon. Why? I have no idea; I've always just kind of thought it was amazing that people could and would do this. I want to feel like one of those amazing people. So how can I achieve that goal? I need to overcome my fear of failure (or success depending on the perspective) and train as if I will do it. I'm going to the park now. Let's see how it goes.

Running in the rain.

I ran on Wednesday in the rain. All I kept thinking was that I wanted it to rain harder to symbolically clean me off. (The Weather Gods obliged-- it was pouring when I got back to the car. ) It had been such a frustrating day which eventually culminated in a frustrating week. But while I was running, I was happy. I was soaked, tired, sore, but content. As for distance, I think it was only about two miles. I need to figure out various route lengths so I can start keeping track of my distance. I say distance because "work out" seems way too official for what I'm doing. Two miles is a far cry from 26. Need to believe.

On Having a Midlife Crisis

I've decided that I'm having a mid-life crisis. Three weeks ago I decided that running a marathon was a reasonable idea. There's just one problem (well, there are quite a few more than one but this is the least complicated to admit) with the idea of challenging my body with a 26+ mile run-- I'm not much of a runner.

The funny thing is in my head I define myself as a runner. There's no good reason for this since I haven't run consistently in about nine years and even when I was running (well, jogging) regularly, I was turtle-slow. More than a ten-minute mile slow (actually closer to 11 min.). Maybe I think of myself as a runner because I admire their determination and drive. Let's face it-- it takes a lot of discipline to get out there and train. I suppose that "runner's high" endorphin rush makes it worthwhile, but I never reached that point. My legs would tire or my stomach would cramp long before reaching that Nirvanic state. Add to this lack of running prowess that I am now 43. That seems rather late to decide that I want to become a marathoner. Usually I can talk myself out of these far-fetched illogical ideas. I mean really, I'm not some impulsive teenager. I don't need to impress anyone. I just have this urge that formulated itself into a plan to run a marathon, the Philadelphia marathon this November.

Since I can't shake this idea, I've decided I'd better start training. In three weeks time (since coming up with this plan) I've managed to walk/jog a total of about 27 miles. I'm good for about 2 at a time. What am I thinking? I must be nuts.

I know that I need to write to clear my head, but it's so difficult to sit down and just do it. I teach that learning to write well is the same thing as doing anything else well-- it takes practice. Right now, I am consumed with too much work (like everyone) and not enough time (like everyone). I need to find time to write.

This is my first post.