Recently, I was thinking that I’d like to do something completely out of character and take on an extreme challenge.
Because I’m nothing if not practical, I spent fifteen minutes ruling out anything that might have serious repercussions like death or grievous injury, and managed to narrow it down to a list of five things.
Of those five things, four cost exorbitant wads of cash that I’m not willing to part with and, for the most part, do not have. Hey, don’t judge me, I’ve got three kids in private schools in the heart of the city!
The sole remaining idea was one I’ve had skulking around in the back of my mind for years anyway: run a marathon.
Yes. Me — the lady who, up until a few weeks ago, was perfectly willing to try and pass off pajama pants as outside wear (hey, they were TERRYCLOTH!) and refuses to get off the couch when there is COMPUTER STUFF to be done, wants to try her hand at running obscene numbers of miles with other like-minded fools.
Years ago, when I was a fierce gym warrior, I liked how my energy levels skyrocketed and my endorphins multiplied. I felt strong. I was strong. I could run for miles with friends or just on the treadmill. It wasn’t an issue.
Now I don’t like to jog unless I’m being hunted by a bear or a rabid fox, and this is a problem because in order to train for and participate in a marathon you need to actually run.
Also, while we’re at it, what’s with the change in terminology? Back in the 70s everyone had velvet track suits and went JOGGING. Now they wear sleek UnderArmor, bullet proof bras and cyborg glasses to RUN.
But I digress.
After sifting through endless information on the internet, I found out you need to fill out forms and get on waiting lists to run in some of these marathons, which doesn’t sit right with me. What if I just want to run with large groups of people and get cheered on by adoring fans on the sidelines? Why to I have to pay for that?
It won’t be like that movie version of marathon running I play over and over in my head where, exhausted and covered in fake sweat, I cross the finish line and fall into the arms of my supportive and loving husband who took vacation days to bring my beautiful children to watch mommy achieve her lifelong goal! Because, you know, I had to set my dreams aside in the beginning of the film for the betterment of humanity.
Anyway, my point is this: why must this be so difficult?
I like to run. I enjoy large crowds cheering me on. I like a challenge.
Perhaps my naiveté will work in my favor and the hours of grueling training required to reach such a goal won’t look so daunting to someone as dimwitted as myself. Or maybe, when faced with insurmountable odds, I’ll just deflate and go home.
Regardless, I’d like to try.