I will be running a marathon next February if God takes pity on me and I remain uninjured (must get the house sprayed for roaches to avoid mid-summer calf injuries).
I will be building my base mileage for the next 19 weeks and following every rule imagineable to prevent injury and to build habits for me to be successful. I will weight train, build core strength, and stretch.
I will actually start official “marathon training” the week of October 25 after having built up my weekly base mileage of 35 miles per week. 17 weeks from that point will end with the week of the Mercedes Marathon (I didn't plan this, it was just meant to be).
If you’re counting, that means 36 weeks of full time commitment to something that will ultimately be thrilling, painful, seemingly impossible at times, and completely life changing. That, is the length of time it took me to carry, nurture and ready myself for bringing my baby into this world. Those are the words I would use to describe that process of facilitating her life. That time it was for her. This time it is for me. Just like her little body patiently built inside of me week-by-week, I want to develop in much the same way. I do not want to get ahead of myself or try to do more than is possible too soon. I want to generate a new appreciation for my life with each passing mile/day/week. I want to nurture my faith and my relationship with God by taking these moments and using them to develop my prayer life when I am running alone and learning how to lean on God, not just when I am spent but also when I am fully able and proud of what I am doing. I want to nurture my family by making time to do something that brings me joy and pride. How do I teach my daughter to feel joy and pride in her accomplishments if I’ve forgotten the feeling and only live with the memory of it?
The end result is that on February 14th of next year (how appropriate), I simply hope to finish. In finishing, I hope to find a new kind of love waiting for me at the end of this process. I hope to be surrounded by the people I love the most, collapsing into the person I know God wants me to be, and appreciating life like never before. It might sound dramatic to you, but it’s my dream. And at almost 33 years old dreams are still magical.
P.S. Hey mom, everyone in this picture looks happy.