- April 18, 2014
- Posted by: Joshua Corbelli
- Category: Thinkings
I’m training for a half marathon. I’m still not sure how this came to be. A friend of mine, who in the past 18 months has gone from overweight career guy to triathlon and marathon enthusiast, convinced me I should do this. After agreeing, I now question my sanity.
Don’t get me wrong; I like to run. In fact, I rather enjoy it. But my version of run is two miles (three miles, tops). Running 13 miles in a row might be the closest thing to idiocy I’ve ever actively and consciously pursued.
And I’ve done some dumb things.
There are a few challenges I’m finding myself having to overcome.
- I’m out of shape
- I only have six weeks to prepare
- I spent $120 on shoes that make my feet hurt
- I’m out of shape (this necessitates repeating)
I’m not whining. Strangely, even though I don’t understand why I agreed to do this, I’m painfully glad I did. It allows me to do something I’ve never done before. It makes me take the standard 12-week or 16-week training programs and condense it down to something I can live with and achieve.
But the best part?
At the end of this, I get to be another asshole who puts that stupid little 13.1 sticker on my car window.
Even though I’ve only been at this for a week, I already find myself wondering what type of person I’ll be. After the race is finished, and I’ve showered and eaten and drank my body weight in microbrew, I’ll either be the guy who continues to push myself by running more half marathons and full marathons and triathlons.
Or I’ll go back to being the guy who eats nachos and tells myself that I used low-fat cheese, so it’s really not that bad.
Loathe I may be to admit it, I feel like I will be the former. Maybe not full marathons (those guys are idiots) and certainly not ultramarathons (there is no word for the person who does this). But other things like it.
The reason: I like to be challenged. And the only person who is challenging me is me. And I hate losing. And I also like being in shape. Nachos taste better when you’re in shape.
So with that, I suppose I’ll find myself continuing this trend in some fashion or other. And the next time you see some idiot pass you on the freeway with a stupid sticker on the rear window, you’ll smile and wish that it’s me.
But probably not. There are hundreds of thousands of like-minded idiots.
But hey, at least I get a sticker.