I'm training for a marathon. There. Now that it's internet official, it can never be denied or taken back (because that's how things work on the internet, right?).
Two years ago when Ryan and I ran our first half marathon, I was 239875% positive I would never run any distance further than 13.1 miles. Ever. Because holy crap those two hours were a special form of weird torture (it's so bizarre to be so exhausted and in so much discomfort, while at the same time being at least vaguely aware that the only thing you have to do to make it stop is to simply quit moving your legs). But I'm seriously a sucker for any sort of challenge and I truly love testing my own physical limitations. And perhaps I'm a bit of a glutton for punishment.
The idea of tackling a full marathon has been planted in the back of my brain for years (I even found it on my bucket list from my senior year of high school). But the dedication it requires - committing to literally hours upon hours of training - has always seemed like something better left to some unspecified date in the future. Because writing and cooking and running a business plus a good multi-hour run or two every week? Please. Ain't nobody got time for that.
But honestly, I suppose I do have time for that. Or at least more time for it now than I probably will at any other point in the foreseeable future. So, I'm going for it. I'm a full five weeks in and I'm 100% committed.
Unless I break my leg. (Knock on wood, before I jinx myself.)