A Belated Congrats

I'll spare you the sob story about being unemployed this go around. Instead, I give you a long overdue post.

On Sunday, I did a 2-mile run, my second run in less than a week. The last time I've ran twice within a 7 day span was August. I know that I'll be woefully unprepared for my half-marathon in January, but instead of using that as an excuse to quit, I'm of the mindset that it'll be learning the lesson the hard way. An optimist would call my training plan "flexible"; a realist would call it non-existent (in terms of the "plan" part). I'm slowly getting up the motivation to run more often, and even if I can barely do 6 miles by the time I get to Phoenix, I'll suffer my way through the last 7.1.

It wouldn't be out of line to call my efforts at preparing for my half-marathon pathetic, especially given the amount of time on my hands, my status as a diabetic, etc. I've got every reason in the world to do it, all the motivation I need, yet I still can't get my ass out there as often as I need to. I'm getting better, and I assure you that sometime tomorrow, I'll be out there running those 2 miles again. Wac assures me that the first three miles of any run are the worst, and I believe her. After all, this is the person who completed a full marathon just three weeks ago.

In fact, it's because of her that I still haven't given up on this for the umpteenth time. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's quitting an exercise plan. But I know what happens now when you don't; I'm living with the results. The woman I love, within the span of year, had lost 100 lbs, ran two official half-marathons and one full marathon (not to mention all the miles ran for training), and has shown a sense of willpower and determination that I've never had.

I've tried to match her enthusiasm for running, but I just haven't caught the bug yet. I've finally gotten away from the treadmill, instead running through the streets of Seattle, and it's helped. I've enjoyed the past couple of runs much more than I have any run on a treadmill. Who knows; maybe I'll become a runner myself one day.

In the meantime, I'm just focusing on getting out and running as often as possible. I'm not setting any specific training plan, because it's too easy for someone like me to quit when it gets too hard. Maybe by the end of November I'll be able to run 5 miles, by the end of December 9 or 10, who knows. The one thing I do know is that I'll be crossing that finish line in Phoenix on January 18th. I could care less if I'm the last person across, crawling my way to the end.

At the end of the Portland Marathon, watching my girlfriend cross the finish line, I've never been more proud of someone than I was of her at that moment. I want to feel that same way about myself too.

Congratulations, baby. I'll be there with you soon.