The Plan

This morning the plan was to go to the gym…but that didn’t happen.

After spending the last few days in Charleston living the YOLO and “treat yo’ self” lifestyle during spring break, I vowed to wake up this morning and hit the gym before work.  My alarm went off at 4:45 am.  I got out of bed at 6:10.

To make matters even worse, I decided to be an absolute glutton for punishment and step on the scale this morning. That didn’t help at all.

I just sat here and calculated that I have exactly 31 weeks until the NYC marathon.  31 weeks to get my act together and my butt in gear.  And yet, as I make myself the promise every single morning to get up, it’s hard to actually follow through on it.

I KNOW how much better I feel when I do it.  I KNOW how much better my day goes and how my mood is more elevated.  I KNOW that I feel a sense of accomplishment before most people are even starting their day.  I KNOW this.  But still…the warmth of the bed envelopes me and I YOLO my way back to sleep for an extra hour, waking up far more cranky simply because I let myself down once again.

Tomorrow is a new day, right?

Tomorrow I can do it.


The Beginning

*A post from a month ago…but one fitting the beginning of this blog.*

I got my haircut today.  And registered to run the NYC marathon.  Two things that really needed to happen.

While my haircut is pretty great, we all know this isn’t what this post is about.

I earned my guaranteed entry by deferring my entrance from last year to this year.  Last year I wasn’t ready.  I thought getting in by lottery would make me ready.  It didn’t.  Life happened.  And then more life.  I stopped running. I stopped trying.  I stopped everything.

But now things are different.  I’m still not ready for this marathon.  Not by a long shot.  I’ll be one of those last finishers that everyone waits for, but I don’t care.  I’ll do it anyway and be proud of any amount of time it takes me.  Going from zero to marathon is no small feat.  I know this.

I knew my guaranteed entry was coming but I hesitated signing up again.  I would think yes, then no, then yes again, then no again…I think you get the picture.  Then the lottery opened and my emailed arrived confirming what I already knew.  And still I waited.  After posting on social media about how I was unsure of which decision to make my friends and complete strangers encouraged me: it’s a once in a life time opportunity, don’t hesitate – just do it, I have faith in you.  The words resonated with me so much and I began to think maybe I could do this.  Maybe I could “run” a marathon.

But still…I waited.  $295 dollars is no small amount of money and for someone who is paying the bills in two households, it’s more than I can waste.  What if I chickened out again?  What if the self-doubt and fear overtakes me?   What if I really can’t do it?  That’s a lot of money to flush down the drain.

And then, on whim, on a random Thursday night, I sold my old engagement ring.  A ring I had picked out and essentially paid for myself.  A ring that represented a marriage and a union that no longer existed.  A ring that was bought for a person who no longer exists.  I didn’t get a lot for it.  Not nearly as much as we paid for it almost 16 years ago.  But you know what it was enough to cover?  An entry fee to the NYC marathon as well as some left over (training gear, perhaps?).

With a few clicks of a button it was done, and I was registered, letting a piece of who I once was turn me into someone I know I can be.

NYC 2018…here I come.