On May 2nd, 2010, I completed the New Jersey Half Marathon.
A triumphant moment.
After months of training through icy winter weather and pushing myself farther than I ever thought imaginable, I crossed the finish line in just under 3 hours. On top of that, I raised (with many of our readers' help) $2600 for the Leukemia Lymphoma Society through Team In Training. The carb-loading pasta orgy that took place the night before the race was bliss. The actual race? Brutal. The weather was unseasonably warm. And in warm I mean so goddamn hot that I got a tan from the asphalt. There was also a lack of water stations so dehydration was a very real issue. I walked more than I planned and my time suffered for it. But I--a gym class failure--finished. If they weren't playing Michael Jackson at the mile two marker, I might have given up right then. If it weren't for the kindness of the Long Branch citizens turning their hoses and sprinklers on us, I might have passed out. If I didn't have my trainer and friend Jenn by my side, I would've talked myself out of the whole stupid thing and found the nearest air conditioner. If it wasn't for TNT members and my family and friends cheering, I might not have been smiling when I crossed the finish line.
This helped too:
Encouragement I can get behind.
I thought a lot about the wine. Especially cold wine. Upon returning to Manhattan, I promptly ate my body weight in brunch (my own and that of those around me), downed about 10 cocktails, and went to bed for twelve hours. A glorious finish.
So what did I do after completing an unbelievably insane goal that my friend Scott talked me into all that time ago? I stopped running, took a trip to France, and gained about 20 pounds through cheese and macarons alone. There was one point where I even stuffed a croissant with ice cream. And ate it. With gusto and glee.
Yeah, this happened.
Then I came home and I dabbled in running. But I also continued to dabble in eating. And then the temperature dropped and I turned to hibernation. I abandoned running altogether. I picked up a bad Westville takeout habit. Every now and then I would look outside at the dark days of wintry mixes and snowpocalypses and wonder to myself, "Did I really run ten miles in this last year? Outside? Sometimes twice a week? Surely that never happened." And if it weren't for the photo evidence and this blog, it would feel like my accomplishment never really happened at all. Through the holidays and into 2011, I put on another thirty pounds...a fact that I just discovered by weighing myself for the first time in months.
The weather is thawing now and I had the opportunity to put on a dress recently. I should've been thrilled, but the truth is, my thighs quickly became so glued together that it was painful. No amount of baby powder or runner's glide would unstick them. This small moment (and not so small chafing rash) was a turning point. It wasn't the increasing tightness of my clothes or my inability to attempt a mile...though those were factors too. The fact of the matter is that I am the heaviest I have ever been, so out of the shape that I feel like I'm starting all over again, and am starting to think with concern, for the first time, about what this could mean for my health. The half marathon is a distant memory and I need to remember what I'm capable of again.
No, I don't plan to run a marathon anytime soon. Or even a half marathon for that matter. I did it, it's over with and I'm in no rush to do it again. But it is time to start running again. I hope you'll join me.
Here's to new beginnings...and trying to love the road.
