I'm not sure why I didn't object when my husband boldly posted a training schedule on our refrigerator and announced that we were going to do a half-marathon. I was in the midst of my unemployment stint and deeply distressed. Either he believed that a goal would alleviate some of my misery or he was not-so-subtly recommending that I drop a few pounds. Regardless of his motivation, I agreed, and the next Monday we drove down to Bayshore to begin our training.
After six weeks, 70 miles, two cortisone shots in the foot, and, sadly, no pounds lost, we are still going strong! While sometimes grueling, I have begun to look forward to our evening runs along the bay. When we run, my thoughts are unimpeded. My emotions are placid, no longer consumed with worry, insecurity, or defeat. My senses are elevated...I feel the breeze of every bike rider that speeds past me, smell the ocean, and hear the rhythm of my feet pounding the pavement. I think about my next painting, my next blog, my next job, my husband's butt (because he is usually in front of me), the book I am reading, what I would do with a million dollars, will we have kids, what kind of mother will I be, what an amazing mother I have.....
When we have completed our run, regardless of the distance, and despite the fatigue or muscle aches, I feel absolved of every cynical thought and emotion that I previously sustained. I feel a sense of pride and one step closer to our goal of completing a half-marathon.
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