Posting It Here!

...So I will be accountable.

I am taking the plunge. I am going to try to run the L.A. Marathon.

Every year the runners go by and I clap so hard and so long my hands are still beating for hours afterwards. I cry with the emotion of it all and pledge that yes next year, really, next year, I will do it.

But I never do.

Part of it was that I always knew I could. It was not a serious challenge in the way that I wanted a challenge. It would just hurt. A lot.

At 44, it will still hurt a lot. But now I wonder if I really can do it. And the truth is, I don't know.

I trained when I was 33 and I pulled my hamstring a month before the race. At that time I had never injured anything in my life, so I was quite surprised. Now I have injured a lot of things, and I do not want to injure more, nor destroy my body for this. So my pledge is that I will train consistently, gently, but not to excess. If my body is breaking down, I quit.

In my mind I am still a kick-ass runner, but I have realized in the last year that many of my images of myself are woefully out of date. This is the misery of middle age. I think I am a cracker jack reporter and an awesome athlete. I remember myself at my peak, the day I dropped out of whatever it was I was doing to move onto the next stage of whatever it is I am doing in my life.

But re-entry is hard! Bumping up against the truth is brutal!

The reason for my marathon training is not just a last gasp of clinging to youth, however. There is a larger purpose. I am doing this to discipline my body, and my mind. I am doing it to teach myself to keep plugging along, keep putting in the time, keep going when I get tired, or depressed, or worn out, or discouraged. I am doing it for the metaphor.

You see, I have a bipolar approach to life. I like the high highs and the low lows. I like the maniacal bursts of energy followed by the collapse that comes from putting everything you have into a project and then falling in a dead, worn out heap. I really like that. That is why I travel, do journalism, create strange, masochistic deadlines for myself.

But, I know from the vantage point of middle age, of motherhood, that life is more of a marathon. And, for what lies ahead of me, I need to cling to the marathon image rather than the Mt. Everest image. I need to wake up, put one foot in front of the other, keep on keeping on, and stick to the schedule, all emotion aside. If I do, good things will happen. I will finish the marathon.

If I don't, I will pull a metaphorical muscle, injure a metaphorical part of myself, or, worst of all, give up. And so I dive in, pledging to not run too fast or too slow. To pace myself. To stick to my schedule. To run beautiful places and reward myself with weekend runs that uplift my soul (and wear out my body).

I am doing Hal Higdon's Novice Program. It is the easiest training program there is, designed for people who literally have never run in their lives. But for now, that is perfect for me. I just need to get to the finish line.

I bought my new running shoes (turquoise, with foam form soles) and set out for my maiden run around the reservoir this morning.

Wish me luck. Eighteen weeks to the big day!