13.1

A long time ago, I made a list of goals. I can’t remember everything that was on it (I am hoping it said something like “broker world peace and fight for justice,” but I cannot guarantee it), but I know that it had the following three things: 1) learn how to juggle, 2) learn how to play the guitar, and 3) run a 5K. What can I say? I aim low.

First, I tackled the guitar. I carried around a junior-sized acoustic guitar that my friend Lisa gave to my son, and wouldn’t let that thing go until I’d mastered the main chords. Michael Row Your Boat Ashore became my bitch. Next: juggling. For some reason, my mother had a set of juggling balls stamped with the word Toblerone, which I practiced on for weeks, and I do mean WEEKS until I could finally juggle those little fuckers. Last but not least, my old nemesis: running.

I’ve told much of my running story in this blog, but I am reminded of it all as I prepare for my 6th half-marathon on October 16th. And while a half-marathon is the ugly, stupid, unlovable cousin to the Actual Marathon, it is still much more than I ever dreamed I would be able to do. I would like you to join me for the next one.

Now, you may have just made a face, and grabbed at that nagging hip/leg/knee/ankle/toe/lower back/shin injury that you’ve been nursing for ten years, but I would like you to unclench the body part, and just hear me out. If I can run a half-marathon, you can, too. Here’s why:

In order to run a half marathon, all you need is a little time. Right now, if you can run for thirty seconds, you can run for a mile. If you can run a mile, before you know it, you can run a 5K. If you can run a 5K, you can run a five miler. If you can run a 5 miler, you can run a 10K. If you can run a 10K, you can run a ten-miler. If you can run a 10-miler, you can run a half-marathon. That is the simple truth. All it takes is one step, and you are on your way.

Nobody will judge how you run. Listen, every race has those girls who run by in strappy bra tops and short-shorts with the tread of a gazelle. They will get theirs one day. Most of us throw on what’s clean and take our goofy stride out with us. You just have to finish – not look pretty while you’re doing it.

You will not come in last. You never will. Somebody has to, but it is not you. Don’t worry about it.

You will not be the sweatiest person out there. That’s me.

You do not have to radically change your life to run a half marathon. You just need to get moving. Maybe today isn’t the day that you run, but you can use today to walk. Hop on the elliptical tomorrow. Ride your bike the next day. I know you think you’re not in shape, but you can’t get in shape by sitting your fat ass on the couch and bitching about it. Just get started.

And speaking of “in shape,” a half-marathon takes all sizes. I have seen some real tanks running these things. You don’t need to be an elite athlete to do it.

There are lots of resources to help you get started. Your friendly neighborhood running store will get you fitted with the right shoes for you, and will give you a plan to get started. You can look online for a training plan when you’re ready for your first race. There are blogs, magazines, websites and books for running. This is running, not chess. It really isn’t that hard.

You will feel so good if you do it. The day I ran a mile without stopping, I called my sister in New Jersey. From the track. The first time I ran a distance over ten miles, I stopped right where I was, on Goodale Boulevard, and jumped up and down, Rocky Balboa style. Nowadays, even though I’ve had more ten mile runs than I can shake a fist at (and believe me, I have shaken my share of fists) I still celebrate every run. When I run, I am alive. I am being, instead of existing. I am using my body the way it’s supposed to be used, not ruining it with inactivity. I am taking care of the machine, protecting it from heart disease, hypertension, diabetes and bone loss. I am making sure that, no matter where I go in the world, I will have a means to get around, to have something to do, and to commune with others through a universal language.

You can do it. Listen, if those fatasses (I mean that in a literal sense) on The Biggest Loser can do it, I don’t know what your excuse is. You may run slowly, you may run ugly, and it may not be easy at first, but you can do it. If you can run thirty seconds, you can run a mile. If you can run a mile, you can run a 5K. If you can run a 5K, you can run a 5 miler. If you can run a 5 miler, you can run a 10K. If you can run a 10K, you can run a 10 miler. If you can run 10 miles, you can run a half-marathon. And I want you to run it with me. Columbus half marathon: May 5, 2012. Put it on your calendar. I don’t want to hear why you can’t. You can do it.