I don’t run.
Not sure if you know that about me.
Oh sure sometimes I “go out for a run”, usually at the advice of my therapist who once suggested I move my body when I get anxious. But I’m not very strong, I don’t love cardio and I don’t go very far. I also tend to get distracted by the showtunes on my iPod and it’s like, you know what? I’d rather stop running and daaaaaance!
My brother Paul, however, runs marathons.
I’m just going to let that sink in, in the event you knew Paul in high school. Back then, he was glued to his computer, was about 80 pounds overweight and his exercise routine consisted of walking from the couch to the pantry to scope out whether our mom had purchased any more Oreos.
Instead of exercising, Paul used that time in his life to become the smartest person in the world. Literally. He knows everything. More than anyone I have ever met. And I’m guessing somewhere in the middle of LEARNING ALL THE THINGS, Paul was like hm, science says exercise and eat vegetables so I don’t die. And just like he does with everything, he went full throttle.
Last year alone, Paul ran 4 marathons, a 50k and a 50 miler.
People can change, I guess, is my point. Also my point: Paul is now unfairly the smartest person in the world AND the most athletic/lean/drop-dead gorgeous.
Last year, he and my also athletic sister Deb ran the Brooklyn half-marathon and were like IT WAS SO GREAT WE ENDED UP IN CONEY ISLAND DRINKING BEER!
And I was like, oh bummer, I want to hang out with you guys in Coney Island drinking beer, no fair.
So when registration came around a few weeks ago, those fools along with my husband who is always like YOU CAN DO IT YOU ARE GREAT!, convinced me to sign up.
WHAT HAVE I DONE YOU GUYS???
I’m only slightly panicking. I had 16 weeks to train when I signed up (now down to 14) and I’m told that’s plenty of time. I’m taking it slow, baby steps and it’s been great so far except the polar vortex has mandated almost all my runs happen on the treadmill which is my least favorite thing.
But I must say, even after a 2 mile run, I am exhilarated.
“I DID IT!” I keep saying. “I RAN TWO MILES!”
I’ve just always labeled myself “not athletic”, “not a runner”, “not”, “other”, I can’t, I can’t.
I’m trying to prove to myself that I can.