Conceiving A Marathon

I believe it first occurred to me as a sixth grader the concept of the marathon.  I don't think I knew just how long a marathon was.  I don't believe I knew anyone who'd completed a whole marathon (or if I did, they were a mere acquaintance).  And because I didn't know either of these two things, neither did I have any concept of just how long training for a marathon might take.  The preparation, the research, even the simple (or not so simple) concept of running, literally, hours at a time.

One thing I did know about the marathon?  I would eventually have to run one.  Call it fate, call it a weird subconscious light bulb, call it a sick challenge, call it God (which, I now am), I knew I would run one someday.

And to an out-of-shape sixth grader with self-image issues, that is a daunting - nay completely inconceivable - thing.  Me?  The out-of-shape, can't-even-run-a-quarter-mile-without-running-out-of-breath girl, who detested the locker room more than anything else all throughout grade school?  The one who turned beat red at even minor physical exertion?  But the ultimate crux: The one who absolutely hated running? That one?

Yes.  THAT ONE.  Of course, at the time, I saw it as having to run it.  I was scared of it.  Because I wasn't ready for something that crazy.

Twelve years later, I've grown.  I've learned a lot - academically, intellectually, emotionally, spiritually, physically.  I've experienced a lot - some things I never in a million years thought I'd actually get to experience.  Then again, some things I never in a million years wanted myself to experience.  But I have to count all of them, good and bad, as joy.  As it is perhaps because of the less desirable situations that I really grew.

Twelve years later, I'm ready.  And it is quite conceivable that this is the perfect time to run a marathon.  So, figuratively speaking, I am conceiving today.  The first official training week begins today.  It's going to be a relatively short pregnancy: 18 weeks.  Four months of training for a full marathon.  And it's probably going to be the most grueling four months of my life to date.

But I've never been more ecstatic to experience a birth; my own, in still many more ways, really.

All I can say to that little sixth grade girl now is this: It's a good thing you only saw that first marathon.  You'd probably have flipped a lid if you saw how many more I'm now looking forward to after that one.