‘I think I’ll run a marathon.’
Who wakes up one day and says this? Who would volunteer to run a race so long that your body has to digest its own muscle just to cross the finish line? It’s a grueling sport where the contestants vomit, loose control of their bladders and feel sick and weak for days. Why would anyone do this to themself?
My reason is pure unadulterated pride. It was a mistake. I made the declaration in a moment of post-Ivan insanity, but once I said it, I couldn’t back down, and to insure that I wouldn’t I found myself telling everyone I met that I was going to run the Cayman Islands half-marathon in March. Now granted, a half-marathon is just that, only half a marathon, but for someone who hasn’t run since they moved to the Caribbean, half a marathon might as well be a race to the moon and back. It all happened so fast, and if I could re-live that moment when I first said I would run in March – well, I wouldn’t. I was feeling down, the usual hurricane recovery blahs, so I did what all independent women do when in crisis: I called my mom. Consistency is the trademark of good parenting, and she told me the same thing she told me when I was a bored seven-year-old: ‘Clean your room’. I laughed, hoping she was kidding, and then she said, ‘you need an activity’ which is normally when I would magically occupy myself for fear of becoming subject to one of her chores unfairly disguised under the name of ‘activitiy’.
I hung up before she could tell me to clean the toilets or hand-wash my clothes, and I opened a can of split-pea soup. So I stood (Ivan left me no chairs), and ate my split-pea soup and flipped through the newspaper, and that’s when I saw it – my activity. Before I knew what I was doing I had the phone in my hand, and I heard myself telling my husband I was going to run 13.1 miles. Had I thought about it, or had his phone been busy, or lightning struck me down, I would have had time to realize what a silly idea this was for a person like me, but now I’m stuck.
His first reaction was, ‘yeah right (insert laughing here)’, so of course I have to prove him wrong, and I have until March 6 to do it. I have less than three months to go from never running (after all who would do it on purpose?) to running 13.1 miles… in a row.
I’ve grown up and moved out of my mother’s house, so how, when I looked for an activity did I end up with just another chore? I admit, I should have cleaned my room, but I’ve told my husband, and now I’ve told all of you, so I guess I better get out there. I’ll keep you posted.