The sounds of me stroking out.
I just signed up for a marathon. You know the kind. Over 42k? I’m not sure what I’m thinking really. It’s on the 25th of May at 7am (you read that right). This is crazy on so many levels:
1. I’ve never run a marathon in my life. Which is why I intend to walk the entire thing. It should only take me about 6 to 8 hours.
2. 23 May is my 15th wedding anniversary. No getting drunk or gorging out before the race.
3. I have to be downtown at 6:30 for the 7am start time. In case you missed it that’s seven o’clock in the morning, friends.
Why did I do this? Because once, a long time ago, in passing, at a time when I was probably punchy from lack of sleep, I said I wanted to "do a marathon" by 40. I’m 40 now and will be 41 in August. So this is it. My last chance. At least I didn’t pidgeonhole myself by saying I wanted to "run a marathon". So a few days ago I held my breath, paid the $90 and now I’m officially signed up. You know, I could have signed up for a 1/2 marathon but those who know me know I don’t do things by halves. Now, all I have to do now is train, right? Does walking over to the fridge for a snack count? Changing channels with a sticky remote? I do have to press realllly hard. Oh, I am so screwed.