On To The Next One...

I did it.

I ran a half marathon.

Go me.

Wait, what? I registered for another one? It's less than a month away??

If you've even thought about a half marathon, you've heard the joke, "I'm doing a half marathon, not a full, because I'm only half crazy." Well, I sat around and must've had a week-long runner's high, because I decided to register for the Ann Arbor Half Marathon on June 9. Yup, one month after the Mini. Two 13.1 mile runs in a month. I think I'm actually completely crazy.

I'm seriously debating the sanity of this decision. Ann Arbor is going to be both mentally and physically challenging. Mentally, there is just the magnitude of it. A second Half in a month. The field will be much smaller, so there will be less of a crowd mentality. And I have no running buddy this time. It will very much be a solitary grind of my own personal will to finish.

My husband also pointed out to me that it will be mentally difficult as Ann Arbor is a college town. There will probably be lots of young, college-age, athletic females running and passing me. Wait... is he calling me old? Am I old at the ripe age of 28??

Potential meltdown over nearing 30 aside, he's probably right. It is a small field, the full marathon is a Boston qualifier, and it will draw more serious athletes that the 35,000-strong Mini Marathon in Indianapolis. So I will have the mental challenge of watching people pass me, rather than having to zig and zag around other people every two steps.

Ok... mentally gearing up for fast chicks. Whatever, it sounds like the route is pretty... Ann Arbor... parks... hills...   Wait... my leg is still injured??

Yup, the weird knot in my calf that pulls on my shin that feels like a shin splint but doesn't seem to actually be one but hurts like one is still there.

I know, I know, runners are idiots. We're nothing if not stubborn. And I can't seem to comprehend that perhaps I should just sit and rest until my leg feels better. First, that's no fun. Second, it's laughable to think about rest when hanging around my husband. I'm pretty sure I could shoot him in the foot, and he'd drink water, change socks, 800mg ibuprofen  and then go CrossFit. Yes, I used CrossFit as a verb instead of a noun. No, I don't care if that's proper CrossFit grammar. Yes, I am wildly amused that my spellcheck accepts CrossFit as an appropriately-spelled word.

So here we are. May 17. A little nervous, a little burnt out, a little wounded, but registered and committed. In the back of my mind, I tell myself that I could walk part of Ann Arbor if I really need to. But that little voice in my head that so often tells me I can't is actually laughing at me. I'm not walking. I'm not backing out. I'm not quitting. I will grit my teeth, Ranger shuffle if I have to, and make it through.

Because at the ripe old age of 28, with pain in my leg and fit collegiate kids passing me, I can do this. Today, this month, this is the not the time when I can't. The line between here and can involves pain, will and challenge, but the bridge of stubbornness is strong.

Besides, completely crazy is much more fun than only half crazy!