TrueLife: I'm Training For The Marathon

I'm in the midst of the biggest mistake of my life. I may be exaggerating, but I highly doubt it. Out of sheer foolhardiness and a masochistic streak (if only in the pursuit of glory), I have made the commitment to run the Boston Marathon this year. This hastily-made plan was put into action last Marathon Monday, a day marked with athletic gusto and chutzpah. People of all ages galloped down Commonwealth Avenue, like great horses or, as a peer has said, gallant Na'vi. Watching the runners filled me with resurgence and an inkling that I, too, could bound up and down the streets of Boston with the wings of Hermes. I suppose I dashed off to begin training before I saw the dizzy, aching, hunched crawlers inching forward little by little – in short, my future.
    That may be a premature thought, but if the 12-mile run I took today is any indication, a world of hurt lies before me. Despite the obtrusive pain in my left ankle, though, I still feel compelled to finish out my commitment and run the marathon. It's not as if I completely abhorred today's run. In fact, I quite enjoyed running down Beacon Street and circling the Commons. I felt refreshed and at ease, with a "go get 'em" attitude and swagger. Not until I found myself lost on Brighton Avenue in search of Commonwealth Avenue for an extra hour and a half was I reminded by a small voice, "Biggest mistake of your life."
    That may be the problem with my marathon training right now – lack of planning. In theory, I began training at home last summer in Houston, Tex. Being a balmy 101-degree kind of day, I threw on some running clothes and ran out the door for a brisk 3-mile jog. The lessons I learned from this first run were truly monumental. First of all, water is vital in physical activity. Also, the sun doesn't mess around, and it will burn your face and neck without mercy. Most importantly, Under Armour isn't all it's cracked up to be. I find I remain cool enough without the constricting undergarments holding my body together. Once I return to the wintry homeland of Boston College, however, I have to shell out $50 on warming Under Armour to keep from developing hypothermia. Never has style mattered so much to me.
    Once I got all those kinks figured out, I felt well-suited for the title "marathon runner." Little did I know, it was only the beginning (rather ominous, no?). The general training schedule involves a three- to-six mile jog three days a week, a day of conditioning and cross-training, and two days of glorious rest. The idea of running three days a week seemed feasible. I wasn't too worried about it. Come day three, my legs felt like twigs. Not even twigs, a semblance of twigs. What's more, I never realized how much I'd have to plan around these runs. I figured it'd be simple to squeeze a half hour run in here and there. Nowadays, rarely can I find time to fit the necessary naptime and snack into my schedule. I'm too busy running the Res for the fifth time. I do relish the cross-training days, though. Slowly chugging along on an elliptical has never felt less productive or so relaxing.
    I assumed the physical training would be the heft of the preparation process, but I am saddened to say that there's also a matter of diet. To be frank, I really enjoy food, which sounds obvious, but I have a penchant for the pizza and the fries and such. Now, by the standards of training, I'm obligated to watch my diet for more fiber and heart healthy oxidants. While this may allow me to run the marathon more effectively, I still find it difficult to eat properly. At lunch, I might get a piece of pizza, a cookie or two from the pastry cabinet, a coke, and, for the purposes of training, a package of pineapple. More often than not, the pineapple pretty much remains unopened, but it's the thought that counts.
    It's a struggle to put all the pieces together in this training process. I want to follow through and run the marathon, but sometimes I wonder if I have the time or the dedication. When I stop and reconsider it, though, I have to remember that I ran 12 miles. I essentially ran half the marathon. I know I can do another 12. On Marathon Monday, I won't be a crawler. I'll be a stallion. Looking forward to seeing everyone on the sideline! (Please cheer for me!)