Monday, July 19, 2010

what the...

I've written a lot here about my exercise and how weird it feels, at my age, to become interested in being physically active in any way. I was never competitive, never interested in games or sports or anything that caused a remote sweat in myself or anyone else. So, I'm pondering the why and how of it.

I've done three of those fun runs now. The one last Halloween, the Jingle Bell Jam in New Ulm, and the Freedom Run on the 4th of July. Joanne and I ran and walked together on the Halloween Run but the others were solitary affairs for me.

I noticed at the beginning of the 4th of July run, that there was an emotional response to running with all those people. I almost wept running down Third Street, for goodness sake. What? I had a hard time believing it. I have always been a weeper, but a weeper over a sporting event? It was unthinkable.

This summer I've run a couple times with other people. Once with the group of women that we call "the heavy hitters", the big girls. The women who have run the Boston Marathon, for goodness sake. I'm way out of their league but they're kind and encouraging and it was great fun. There it was...the welling of emotion again. I've thought a lot about it and it's energizing and empowering and's a thrill. And apparently it's a little bit addicting, this rush of endorphins.

This past week, I started thinking about the Mankato Half Marathon in a way that made me wonder if that was something I really could do. Rachel thinks I can. She says, of course you can. Really?

This weekend, I printed the training schedule spent a couple days studying it. Yesterday, I registered to run 13 miles in October. Toward the end of September, I should be able to run 10 miles so I registered for Women Run the Cities.

I can't quite decide how I feel about this. Am I crazy? I think I can do it. I think I can prepare and do the best I can do. But it feels funny to say it and to write I am talking, in the most normal way, about becoming a brain surgeon or growing another head or sprouting wings. Yeah, it feels like I am talking about sprouting wings and I don't mean metaphorical wings either.

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