My friends Adam and Monica (**names may or may not have been changed to protect the not so innocent**) recently offered me a charity bib for THE Boston Marathon. Ho. Lee. Shit. Boston has been on my bucket list since I was probably 16 years old. I said yes, of course, and even hubby is on board (we'll see how he feels later when I have to skip out for 3 hours on a Sunday). It wasn't until later that I remembered I was never going to do another marathon ever. Shit. I have completed 2...I won't say I "ran" 2, because that would be seriously overstating my case. But I finished them, and I didn't die. Mission accomplished.
I didn't train for my previous marathons, really. My longest run for my first was 12 miles. And I wondered why I didn't walk or shit right for 2 days? For my second one, Monica thought she'd be cute and bust my ass. I raced a half, jogged a 15, and walk/jogged an 18. And peeled 27 minutes off my time...there are 80 year olds who marathon faster than me, so that's really not much of an accomplishment. But I digress...
So I've never run Boston. Don't even think I could ever come close to qualifying. So I'm a poser. But I'm going to run Boston. I've already booked my flight. It. Is. On. Then my dear friends said that I have to train. Like, for real train. Shit. Ok fine. Train for a 3:59:59, they said. I promptly reminded my friends that they are, in fact, crack smokers. But I accepted the challenge. I have a 5-day a week plan that I think I can (mostly) stick to. And another friend who has agreed to guilt me into doing my long weekend runs. I hate her...but I love her.
After the initial "you're going to run 3:59:59", Adam talked to his coach about it. Apparently, I'm supposed to run my easy days at 10 minute pace. What. The. Fuck. Seriously? I'm comfortable at 8:45!! But fine. Whatever. I'll be Adam's bitch. I ran 4 miles at 10 minute pace. It fucking sucks. I feel like even more of a poser, if that's possible.
So why am I blogging this? I had the bright idea during my painfully slow run today, that I would document my little journey. Maybe I'll look back on it in 30 years. Maybe my kids will appreciate it someday. Maybe I can show them and myself what is possible.
Sparty on™
