It's disturbingly easy to talk me in to things. In fact, I usually don't need much coercion. The mere suggestion of doing something, like, say, jumping out of a plane, signing up for a triathlon, or yes, jumping off a bridge, usually has me screaming yes before my brain has even properly digested what exactly all of those things could entail.
But I've reached a new low. I've surprised even myself. The week before I left for vacation, a group of people on my Back On My Feet team were talking about the Philadelphia Marathon during one of our morning runs. You know, that 26.2 mile race? And at first I was all no way, amigos I have a wedding coming up and a honeymoon to go to and a heck of a lot of boozing to do before that gun goes off on November 22.
But each time I heard the words "I signed up too," I felt a little pang. And by the end of the run, having never seriously considering running a marathon before AND never running more than 13.1 miles in my life, this pang was eating me alive. This is a PROBLEM. It's like a DISEASE.
Later, at work, I found myself typing Philadelphia Marathon 2009 into Google before I really knew what my fingers were doing. It was like being drunk. Only worse because instead of standing on a table singing Raffi's "Bananaphone," I was sitting at my desk and no one in my office even knows any of the words to "Bananaphone." And before I even knew what happened, I had spent three slammin' pairs of shoes worth of dollars and I essentially signed my life away because there is no way I'm getting out of this one alive.
That's right. On November 22, 2009 I will run my first marathon.
Because I have no idea what I'm doing, I did some research and printed out a number of training schedules. Naturally, I chose the easiest one, which I'll be strictly adhering to. Kind of. For the most part. Okay, really, I'm screwed. An 11 mile run the morning after my bachelorette party? HAH. 17 miles the day of the wedding? I think not. A 19 mile jaunt the last morning of my honeymoon? Uhhh not so much.
So I'll hereby be referring to my training schedule as the Yellaphant training method, which essentially means I'll be running myself silly, when it's convenient and all.
And since it was my Back On My Feet team members who got me in to this mess, I'll be repaying the favor by
Essentially, you're donating to a great cause AND you get the added satisfaction of eventually seeing pictures of me crumpled, possibly bleeding, and sobbing at the finish line because JESUS IN SWEAT SOCKS THAT WAS THE MOST HORRIBLE EXPERIENCE OF MY LIFE.
Donate today! Cause you know I'll be nagging the shit out of you until you do.