Amidst other firsts happening this, my first year of mid 30's, I've taken up running. I have to say that I heart it. I thought I'd never be able to run as I get horrendous shin splints even when walking or hiking. I found out at the running store that I have unbelievably high arches which causes the pain. And after purchasing the most amazing shoes on earth with the highest arch support possible, it's wonderful. It's like walking on a cloud of marshmallow yumminess. Course, that would totally defeat the purpose of running.
The last time I ran I didn't have any shin splint pain. Now granted, I've only run twice, but the days I can't run, I wish I could. I yearn. Long. Drool. ok..not that bad. Even when it's raining outside. Even after a long day of work. It's so theraputic. I pop my ear buds in after work, crank up my Black Eyed Peas (and other assorted fast paced, loud music) and head down to the lake for the three mile trek.
Then my friend Katie threw a challenge at me. You see, she's a runner. Has run marathons. Many marathons. She was SO excited when I told her I started running. She said I should run a marathon and my first question was, "how long is it?" I balked at her answer and said NO WAY! (yes..that loudly too) But she wasn't about to give up heckling me (she really didn't heckle me...ok maybe a wee heckle). A week later she asked "How about a half marathon?" My question: how long is it? 13 miles. That sounded a little more doable. She even said I don't have to talk to her while running. So I agreed.
June 26th is my day of death.
I asked about training and was informed to start with a mile. I laughed out loud and explained that the longest I've run is 3/4 of a mile and about died. But she waved it off as no biggie.
I have 3 months right?