15 September 2011


We are training for a half marathon. It started with another couple from our church. One day the men asked us what we thought about running together on Saturdays. And then, being the supercool manly men that they are, suggested we "go big or go home" and sign up for a half marathon. So we did.
That was many months ago, before the weather turned on us. As the summer grew hotter, my pace slowed, and I worried that I might have to walk most of it. I know the goal is to finish, but I really wanted to push myself to do more. If this body can swim a mile without stopping, surely I can jog the better part of a half marathon.
Tonight, the weather dropped below 90. It was 86 with a slight breeze. After so many triple digit runs, it felt spectacular. My ponytail was swaying in rhythm, my feet felt like they had springs attached instead of anvils, and I wanted to spread wide my arms and fly. I remember why I loved running in college. It feels good to go fast. Fast being a relative term.