Now that I’m officially training for the Brooklyn Half Marathon, I’m starting to get worried. It’s easy to tell yourself you’re going to do something. It’s not much of a stretch to make a plan to do it. But then actually doing it?
It’s too early to be worried, since there are 2 months left before the race, and the weather might–maybe, except for a weekly snowstorm–be getting warm soon. There’s plenty of time for a body that only a year ago couldn’t imagine running 3 miles to get into shape to run 13.1.
Logically, I know this. Yet even while running over the Queensboro Bridge last night after work, I felt the panic clawing its way into my brain.
“You’re tired after only a mile!” it said. “Look how hard it is for you to get up this hill on the bridge–you really think you’re going to be standing after 10 more miles, let alone running?”
I pushed it away, of course. That’s what you do to pesky panic. I kept running, and I ran all the way to the grocery store, where I bought healthy food that never quite fills me up, and I got home and took a shower, and I looked at my face in the mirror, and I realized I liked how it looked.
Flushed, alert, sort of crazed.
I like how I look when I’m challenging myself. It’s so easy to get dragged down by things out of your control, but training for a half marathon is something you can control. Maybe you’ll get an unforeseen injury; maybe you’ll collapse before the finish line. But no one can stop you from training. It’s completely in your hands.
And also kind of awesome.