I’m not a runner. But now I have to be.
You may remember me as the girl who wrote about running the BolderBoulder 10K as a first-timer. Being eager to tell stories and having asked to put more words on the Internet, our wonderful blog team has challenged me with a new task. “We’d like to send you to the Nike Women’s Half Marathon in San Francisco to run and write about it.”
Now look what you’ve gotten yourself into. I run this idea by my boss, who responds with “Love it.” I had no idea so many people wanted to see me suffer. A 10K is one thing. Most people can probably pull 6 miles off without too much trouble. But a half marathon is a half marathon…
Never in my life did I think I would become involved in something like this, but passing up this opportunity is stupid. I get free entry to this huge race (thanks Nike), a free ride to San Francisco (thanks Nick), and I get to tell the ongoing story of my plight to whoever is concerned (thanks readers). If that weren’t enough on it’s own, supposedly I get a Tiffany necklace at the finish line handed to me by a handsome man in a tuxedo (the only thing that could make this better would be if I were fanned and hand-fed a cheeseburger).
I did the math, and powering through 13.1 miles for 2 or so hours seems like a no brainer. Challenge accepted. Plus I get all of this blog space just to complain…because this ain’t gonna be no picnic.
I’ve adopted a 12-week training program, courtesy of the Internet and my lunatic runner co-workers. This technically started Monday, and I happened to be in New York drinking bourbon and eating Shake Shack. I also sat in bed all weekend with a “scratchy throat”. As you can see, I’m tough as nails and fiercely dedicated, and am off to a great start. It’s probably not a good sign when your mantra to gear up for each workout is “I don’t wanna, I don’t wanna…”
But I’m gonna. That’s the reality. I just stood at the finish line for Ironman Boulder for inspiration, because let’s face it, those people are suffering a hell of a lot more than I will. They crossed the finish with smiles. SMILES. I anticipate having my hand over my mouth and trying not to throw up…but I do anyway, probably onto the tuxedo man with the expensive jewelry.
So you’ve been warned. This will be the real nitty-gritty story of half marathon training. All the blood, sweat, and tears. But, at the end of it, I’ll be one of those people with the 13.1 bumper sticker on my car. So I’ve got that going for me. Let the training begin. I’ll be telling you all about it.
Run & Food Talk / Sarcasm / Complaints. Follow @BulieJoyle on Twitter.