I'm running the 2014 Boston Marathon.
In real life.
Whoa.
I'm pretty sure none of this has hit me yet. Maybe it has. I don't know. I guess I'm unsure how to feel and how to react when someone says, "Congratulations! You get to spend the next seven months training your ass off so you can run 26.2 miles!" I know excitement is part of the prescribed response, and I've certainly got that covered. I found out Wednesday that I had been accepted to join Tenacity, Inc's marathon team. I was so psyched that I drove home from school screaming and singing/ rapping along to a very embarrassing and disgustingly upbeat playlist. (My apologies to the residents of Jamaica Plain for having to suffer through my rendition French Montana's "Pop That". It [probably] won't happen again.) I've been bragging to everyone who will listen that I am running Boston. I've exchanged countless high fives, some with people I don't really know. I can't stop smiling when I think about it. I mean, it's kind of a big deal.
But there's that other part of me that is absolutely freaking terrified. I'm running the Boston Marathon. Have I lost my damn mind?! I just volunteered to run over twenty-six miles. For fun. What if I can't do this? What if I get injured? What if, like so much else in my life, I over-think this and psych myself out before I even get to the starting line? I've run half marathons before, but here's the thing: those are half as long as an actual marathon. (I know how obvious that is. Sorry.) Here are some other ways to think about a marathon:
-It's a six mile warm up and a twenty mile race
-It's about eight and a half 5k races
-It's the same distance as it is from the Empire State Building to Scarsdale, NY
-It's like running from Fenway Park to Beverly on the North Shore
-If David Ortiz's home runs are, on average, 400 feet long, then a marathon is running the same distance as 346 Big Papi homers. (Ok, this one is not so bad.)
The point is that a marathon is a long way to run. Like, really, really long.
I'm running the Boston Marathon.
I never really wanted to do this.
Believe it or not, that last part is true. I don't think I ever wanted to run the Boston Marathon, or any other marathon, for that matter. I remember being an undergraduate at Boston University and lining Beacon Street on Marathon Monday to watch the race (i.e. drink my face off). The Boston Marathon seemed like this event that, although it was right in front of me, was so disconnected from my actual reality; it was a backdrop for the general debauchery that was college. Even after I started running two years ago, I never aspired to run more than a few miles. Running was something I started doing because it was good for my health. It was something I kept doing because I sucked at it (I am way too competitive to suck at things). Running is something that I still do because I now really enjoy it. It's fun! But I've always scoffed at my friends and acquaintances who ran long distances. Why would you do that? Running 13 miles sounds pretty painful, if you ask me. Then I ran my first half marathon. And my second one. And while I can say I am totally hooked on running, I never actively thought about running a marathon. It just wasn't something I aspired to do, I guess.
But here I am.
I am running the 2014 Boston Marathon.
I'm scared and I'm nervous and I'm so, so amped. I'm running the Boston Marathon! Who does that?! I can't wait to finally see what Heartbreak Hill is all about. I can already envision high-fiving all the drunken undergrads on Beacon Street. I want so badly to call my grandmother after I finish and tell her what I just accomplished.
So, it's happening: I'm running the Boston Marathon. Sweet!
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