I just got my training schedule for October (a few weeks late) and it's pretty intense compared to the past two months. Scanning these big numbers with my jaw dropped open, it finally hit me: I am crazy. I am truly crazy.
I have signed up to run a marathon.
What was I thinking?
Even the word marathon is long. Compare it to run. Run is what I do around my neighborhood, 3 miles here, 7 miles there. Marathon is what athletes do. Not klutzes who faked mysterious illnesses rather than run around the track in high school.
I'm supposed to do another 10 miles this weekend, and after that, the plot thickens. Five mile weekday runs, then 12 on the weekend.
I am petrified to see the November schedule. I'm signed up to run the A1A half-marathon November 15; maybe by then I will be used to regularly running double-digit routes.
Or maybe not.
Sometimes being an impulsive, spontaneous person is a good thing. You never let life get boring; you take risks. You do things before you can be afraid to regret them.
Other times you do things and later on are shocked that you did them. You wake up, blink, look around you, and find yourself running alongside thousands of other people and shriek, "What am I doing here????"
So tell me, please, what am I doing here?
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