About a year ago, I joined a gym and started running. If I remember correctly, my first “run” was at a pace of a 28-minute mile.
Now, a year later, I’ve dropped down to a solid ten-minute mile and even once ran the entire loop at Central Park in just over an hour. I know none of these numbers are really all that phenomenal, but for me, someone who has never in my life been anything even close to resembling an athlete, it’s pretty damn awesome.
Over the months that I’ve been running, I have discovered that I absolutely love it. I love the challenge of it, the feeling that I’m doing something that is difficult for a lot of people to do, that I’m conditioning my body. I feel healthier, more alive, awake, confident.
Today I’m watching the New York City marathon for the first time ever and I have decided that someday before I die, I am going to run this marathon. I’m writing it down here so I never forget my pledge. I love that I set these crazy goals for myself, because every once in a while when I achieve them, I get such a sense of satisfaction out of it. If I can go from the loser in gym class who always got picked last to actually running the New York City marathon, I think I can probably do just about anything.
I can’t wait to get out there and start running.