26.2 or Bust

With the President of Tufts following the 2008 Boston Marathon

With the President of Tufts following the 2008 Boston Marathon

Boy, is it easy to sign up to run a marathon. You go to the website, click “register,” type in your info inculding your credit card number for the registration fee, and presto! You’re in. It’s only later, as you’re slogging through mile 17 of a training run in the pouring rain that the buyer’s remorse kicks in. But by then it’s too late. You’ve already told your family and friends that you’re running it so the potential shame alone keeps you going.

For me, the hardest part about running a marathon isn’t race day. Despite a few close encounters with “The Wall,” the marathon itself isn’t the toughest piece. It’s the training. It’s the four-month mileage buildup to make sure you can make it to the finish line. That’s the part that no one sees. Unless you’re the spouse of a marathoner and you’re used to getting woken up at oh-dark-thirty by your clumsy runner-husband who trips over his shoes in the dark. Speaking of which, here’s a great article on the subject of crazy runners that my sister-in-law forwarded to Bryna.

I always figure if I can make it to the starting line in relatively good health, I’ll be fine. That hasn’t always been the case but I’m feeling good these days as I train for the Providence Marathon in May. I ran 15 miles last Saturday and will continue to slowly build up the mileage. It will be my fourth marathon (Baltimore, Chicago, Boston) and, as I did for Boston last April, I’m excited to be raising money for a good cause. (Best thing about running Boston? Blessing the students from BC yelling out “Go Father Tim!” as I climbed up Heartbreak Hill — here’s that story.)

This time I’m raising funds for Episcopal Relief & Development, the Church’s global outreach ministry. They do amazing work all over the world in areas of greatest need. So, if you’re so inclined, you can support me in this endeaver by going to my fundraising website. Chip in a few bucks, add a comment, and I’ll be eternally grateful. Or at least grateful until the next time I run a marathon for a cause at which time I’ll hit you up again.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s