Endnote

As I read back through the posts I've made here, I realize that I've come a long way in the past nine months or so.

For one, I've run distances I'd never imagined being able to do, starting with that first two-miles. The main reason? My frame of mind. I've worked hard to overcome several mental barriers -- namely extreme perfectionism. In all my life, it wasn't until only a few months ago that I began to realize that running a long distance -- like a marathon -- was actually a real, tangible possibility. And pardon me for saying so, but I'm proud of myself for what I've accomplished so far.

But just as importantly, I've realized that success doesn't always happen on our schedule. And sometimes -- especially for a neurotic perfectionist who tends to measure her worth by her achievements -- knowing when to say "when" is just as big of an accomplishment as running a marathon.

Really, what I'm trying to say here is that, while completing a marathon is still a goal, it's not going to happen for me this year. I won't be ready, so I'm deferring my registration until next year. And it's okay. The world isn't going to explode. Life will continue. And I'll get an extra year to keep improving all around -- maybe to do even better than I would have, were I to run it this year. Most of all, it'll give me enough time to get some big things off my metaphorical plate.

If you really miss me, you can still find me here. And just like that, goodbye.

*heart*
Sarah

Worry is an unusual, but very effective, motivator

I went eight (8) miles yesterday. You should be so very proud. The weather was beautiful, and the humidity was low (and so was the Run-O-Cam's battery) -- a marvelous day for a long easy run out on the open road. But after the first four miles, I was tired and had lots to do. I had run well and since it was already getting late in the evening, I was going to just pack it up and go home.

But I went four more. Because I'm a wuss.

Now, I might have been able to run more of the last four if I'd at least gotten some water. My water was at my car. My car was in a parking lot that -- as I was approaching -- was quickly filling with fire trucks and police cars and various emergency squads. Two police cars blocked off the main road at either end of the parking lot, and were actually turning vehicles back. And my car, with my water, was parked -- alone -- in the middle of it all.

I probably could have simply asked one of the police officers what was up, should I move my car, can I please get my water. But I'm a wuss. I know it was probably just an alarm or a drill, but I couldn't help thinking that maybe they thought that my car shouldn't be there on a Sunday evening and therefore must be a threat, and so had called in an entire emergency crew to check it out. Because I'm imaginative and neurotic, too.

So I kept going. Because at the time I don't think I could have handled an interrogation, or even a suspicious glance. I figured that it would take me about another hour to do four more miles, and hoped that by that time they would have checked out what they needed to check out, or at least by that time I might be rational enough to address someone and beg to go home, because I just ran eight miles without water.

So after four more miles of mostly walking with intermittent running and some careful stretching, everyone had left, and my car was alone again as if nothing had happened while I was gone. And so I drank two bottles of water, changed into flip-flops and drove home, stopping only for ice cream. Glorious ice cream.

Good things come preprogrammed

There are days when I have to fight tooth and nail with my psyche to run a full mile. There are days when the *other* things in life outweigh working out. There are days when I'd rather gouge my eyes with spoons rather than put on my shoes and go for a run.

And then there are days like today, which seems to be headed for one of the above. You know, when my head just isn't in it. But I was kindly reminded of what lies ahead -- a marathon to be specific -- and I knew I couldn't skip out.

He: "So, you're doin' some running!? Keith said you're going to run a 5K or something?!"

Me: "I did a 5K back in June. I'm signed up to run the Marine Corps Marathon in October though."

He: "WHAT!? You're crazy girl! That's awesome! Good job!"

Me: [weak laughter] "Well I haven't done anything yet..."

He: "Yeah, but you've got more ambition than I've got. Good luck!"

(He being one who runs 8 miles at noon in the dead heat of summer.)

Accountability. It's a real bitch, you know.

So Keith and I went to the gym tonight. And I was going to wimp out and get on the elliptical (although, I must say the elliptical really is nothing to scoff at), but all the elliptical machines were in use. So I breathed a heavy sigh, selected my treadmill and climbed on. And then I figured out how to use the preprogrammed workouts. And I selected HILLS. AND THIS HAS FOREVER CHANGED MY LIFE. For I have just had the most incredible, challenging, satisfying, triumphant workout in a long while. Once I learned to pay attention to when the machine was going to incline so that I would not go rolling off the back of the belt, that is. Quads burning, sides cramping, lungs bursting, the steady pace throughout, the long, glorious sprint for the last 45 seconds -- it was more beautiful than a giant scoop of vanilla ice cream atop a warm brownie with hot fudge sauce.