"How soon 'not now' becomes never." ~Martin Luther
I started writing a blog post around 70 days or so ago. You see, I did a crazy thing. When I say crazy, I mean insane, loco en la cabeza totally nuts kind of thing. I let some really good
And of course I am
I'm all gung ho in May about this race. I have 100 days to get fit. Very doable. I start out of the gates strong. I start my C25K (Couch to 5K for you other couch potatoes) running program. I'm eating better. I save a ton of motivational pictures. I order P90X. I am not only going to be fit but I'm going to be ripped. Melt my muffin top and shred my arms. I'll be climbing rock walls in no time. 10K's by Fall and a half marathon in January. I can see the bumper sticker now: 13.1. Yeah me!
Now comes June. I'm still running once or twice a week. I managed to open P90X and see what's inside. Work and summer break for the kids are keeping me busy. I have two months so even though I'm behind, I can still make it. I won't be at the front of the pack but I should at least finish the race. And then the kids go to Tennessee. Wayne and I are working on the house. And I skip a few days of running. And then some more.
And now it's August. I have exactly 24 days to get my butt in shape. I am really in trouble. I watch the videos on their website again for motivation. These are all young college kids that look like they took a stroll through the park or hardened trained runners that do this kind of thing for fun every day. There are no 41-year-old single mom of three kids in spandex and three layers of sports bras to keep from getting a black eye.
I could give up at this point. But I already paid. And I said I was going. Yet if I don't drop out, you may find me at the bottom of the muddy creek. I should just walk away and let somebody in much better shape run this race. But I'm not a quitter. Just a procrastinator. One that will push ahead even when all logic says there is no way in hell this will happen.
So, on August 27th, you will find me lying in a prone position somewhere. Hopefully in my bed and not still in the creek. Sore and bruised beyond tolerable levels. Wondering what the heck possessed me to prove that somewhere inside this not-quite-so-young body is a runner. And hopefully, with a lot of luck and quite a bit of psychosis, proof that I finished a race I never should have entered in the first place.