I've never told anyone this, but...
I've always wanted to run a marathon. Just once. And after that, I'll probably never want to run again. I'm not hardcore into running, really. Never cranked out more than a few miles at a time. I prefer sprints. Giving it your all, for a few seconds at a time. To me, the number 26.2 would be like a dark cloud looming over me. "Hey, I've run 6 miles!" "Muahahaha guess what?! There are STILL 20.2 MILES TO GO!" (Side note: apparently the dark, looming cloud talks and gets a kick out of my agony).
Running a marathon appeals to me because I've always labeled it The Impossible. Sure, other people can (apparently) accomplish this huge feat. But me? Nooooo way. It makes me laugh even sitting here thinking about it. When the Chicago Marathon was happening, I was the one snickering outside my work, telling my friends how grateful I was to not be one of those poor saps running out by the lake. I mean it, they looked so miserable! You know why? Because they were running 26.2 freaking miles! In Chicago October! We ask, "Why? Why in the world are you putting yourself through this?" There are a number of reasons, really. Some of them just really enjoy running. Some of them are doing to for a cause (and have obviously never heard of a garage sale, or GoFundMe). And some of them, like me, want to prove to themselves that they are capable of the impossible.
I've been running my life in sprints. Giving it all I have and wearing out shortly after. Measuring just a few pulses ahead, failing to consider the entire course, and then having to face the consequences.
Here in the next couple weeks, I'm about to face an enormous feat and I won't have any choice but to slow down and pace myself. Sprinting is not an option. And I'm scared, because to me, it's going to be me facing The Impossible. And let's face it, parts of it will probably be miserable, taxing, never-ending. But if people can run marathons, maybe this isn't so impossible after all. Stranger things have happened. I'll just remember what that one turtle said, Slow and steady. (Side note: NOT the turtle from the first chapter of The Grapes of Wrath, though. Damn thing needed an entire chapter to cross a road. C'mon, Frank. I'm assuming the turtle's name was Frank. I don't know. That was one of the books I didn't actually finish in high school. I just skipped ahead to Huck Finn. Boy, was I in for a shock there. Anyway...)
A marathon. One of these days. And it'll be a big one. I mean, I'm even here researching on the Disney World website. If I'm going to be exhausted and miserable, it will definitely be at the place where dreams come true.
Pray for me, friends.
