One day about 6 weeks ago, I woke up and decided I wanted to run a half marathon.
Seriously? Who does that?
I was consistently running 3-4 miles/day to get in shape and lose these last 10 pounds of Hunter weight that won't budge. (For the record, I'm up to 8+ miles now, and they still won't budge). Dave has been trying to convince me to train for years, and I have never had any desire to do that to myself. I'm still not sure I have what you would call a "desire." I do know I like to run for fun on my own time -- put me on a clock or a schedule, and that takes the fun right out of it. That is why it is even more insane that I only gave myself 8 weeks to make this happen. Anyone who knows me know that I (well "we") NEVER do anything the easy way.
So far, the training hasn't been too bad. I have a training schedule that I really don't have the time for or stick to, but it does help guide me from week to week. It has me running two shorter runs during the week and one LONG run on the weekend. I'm doing good if I get one mid-week run in, and I had consistently been doing the long run until the cruddy weather came in this weekend. I should have run 10 miles on Sunday. Instead, I'll run 10 miles this next weekend, and be a week behind. Life (or in this case some much needed rain/thunder/lightning) happens.
So my goal is to finish without stopping. I'm pretty confident I can do it. I then can get a sweet 13.1 bumper sticker for Lucy.
Yeah, all this... for a bumper sticker (that I will not put on my car, but I'll save that rant for another post).
