Always one who is annoyed by those who talk just to be heard, I am also not an advocate of writing, just to be read. However, one of the goals I set (and wrote down) last month is to blog weekly. And, because I didn't put any perimeters in place to inhibit my writing if I really had nothing to say, resulting is a synopsis of the first thing that popped into my head, which coincidentally, relates directly to another personal goal -- running.
Last year at this time, I was, what I would consider, a runner. I boasted the fact that a routine week would involve my knocking out six miles, at a respectable pace, at least four times, averaging around 25 miles. Something or some things have occurred since then to result in my sitting here, as I type, not having run for the past three weeks. Worse yet, the last time I did run, I was only able to complete one consecutive mile without slowing down for a walk-break.
Maybe I fell prey to the excuses. Perhaps I just got tired of the act of running, needing a break. Whatever the case, I currently feel lazy, out of shape and am overly unimpressed with myself. The truth is, I really like running. In fact, I would go so far as to say I love running. I love how I feel during the act, even when my legs turn to jell-o and my lungs burn. I love the last seconds before the run is complete, when you know that you are going to make it. And, just as sweet, I love the first seconds after completing a run, when that sense of accomplishment overwhelms you and it doesn't matter that your face is beat-red or that your shirt is soaked with sweat. Finally, I love the feeling a few minutes following a good run, during the relaxation when stretching feels like the sole thing on earth I was placed here to do.
As I mentioned, this post relates to goals and, one such goal I set for myself in my early 20s was to run a marathon before entering my next decade. Although I have competed in a race here and there, that paramount goal of completing a 26.2-mile route has yet to be accomplished by me. And, with only 7 months until my 30th birthday, time is ticking.
As with most things in life, I think the unknown of the marathon is what intimates me most. Beyond the training and discovering if my body can, in fact, complete 26.2 miles of consecutive running, I fear the actual event and all that accompanies it. However, I recognize that, when it comes down to it, these events which cause me such anxiety are rarely, if ever, worth all the stress.
As you've probably deducted, I am going to attempt to accomplish my goal and complete a marathon before September 25, 2010. I know with only seven months to prepare, I'm "pushing it," but I also know myself and what I can accomplish. In the past, it has only taken me two months to go from pitifully running one mile in 12 minutes to hitting the six-mile mark in just over 50. And, honestly, if the training is too burdensome, at the very least, I will (hopefully) get back into running.
How does the saying go? Shoot for the moon and, even if you miss, you'll land among the stars? Well, I'm tying up my laces, turning up my iPod and heading out to out to take the first steps toward my moon -- the finish line at mile-marker 26.2.
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