("Feel the fear, and run anyway." - Author unknown.)
(But they were probably a marathoner.)
Right now, as I type, thousands of intrepid runners are belting along the roadways of Bellingham, finishing their first, or second, or umpteenth marathon.
I'm not among them.
Sigh. The folks at the B'ham Marathon Association were kind enough to defer my registration for *last year's* marathon to this year, and I lived in weird hope that I would be able to train up for today. But alas, given recent events, the training was just not on the agenda.
I have a newfound humility for what people with full-time jobs must go through to make fitness happen: in the few months that I've been working almost-full-time, I've managed to put on ten pounds (thanks in no small part to the Caloric Bermuda Triangle anchored around Churchmouse. Pastries and coffee on the one side, wicked ice cream on the other, and now ... Bacon Sandwiches? Steps from our door? I mean, really).
If all those sweaters I've been knitting are going to keep fitting, something's gotta give.
So, in honor of all those running 26.2 today, I'll do my own personal marathon and run farther than I have been, sporadically, lately. Headed out the door for 4.
That's going to be my own personal little triumph today. And I'll take it.