The confession…

While I would love to begin this story with an inspirational, tear-inducing (the pretty sort of crying where a single tear gently glides down your cheek as soft music plays in the background… not the kind of messy, snotty weird-faced sort I’m disposed to) tale of momentous transformation, the truth is that it all started with the mother of all hangovers. I won’t be presumptuous enough to assume that you are familiar with this sort ailment so allow me to offer some insight.  I’m talking about the kind of hangover that keeps you on the couch for an entire day while it feels like a troop of those Irish River Dance people have taken up residence inside your skull and are practicing for their big chance on the X-Factor.  The kind where you vacillate between recoiling at the mere thought of food and being willing to sell your soul for some french fries, a cheeseburger (despite having given up red meat ages ago) and the largest vat of sugary soda that would fit through a drive-thru window.  

That, my new found internet friends, is how I spent my 38th birthday.  Yep, 38… not 21… not 30… not even 35.  I rang in my 38th year in a self-induced state of misery feeling terribly physically and beating myself up emotionally for every misguided, ill-informed and all around bad decision I’ve made my entire life in what appeared to be some sort of a mid-life crisis (or dehydration-induced temporary depression).  

Lest you think that this is a blog about drinking, let me tell you that it’s not actually about the birthday, emotional instability, the wine or the hangover (although there will likely be more instances of all of the above throughout this journey!). To put it simply, it’s about how the day after my birthday a traffic detour, desperate need for change and a public proclamation had me stepping a million miles outside of my comfort zone, facing a lifetime of self-doubt and insecurities and choosing differently than before.  

The traffic detour was because there were a zillion runners taking over the streets of my beloved city of San Francisco, the desperate need for change was based on the above noted emotional state and the public proclamation was me announcing that the following year I would spend my birthday running a half marathon vs. feeling like a group of half marathoners were running over me.  And I did exactly that.  One year later and having barely survived shin splints, pulled muscles and all sort of other ailments, I celebrated my 39th birthday by crossing the finish line of the San Francisco Half Marathon (the second half for those of you who are familiar with the race).  I hadn’t trained right and was slow but other than walking through the water stations I ran the whole thing and was encouraged and supported every step of the way by the very two people who had been by my side in the drunken stupor the year before.  They are my own personal dynamic duo, my biggest fans who shower me with unconditional and unrelenting love in all aspects of life no matter what… something I am incredibly lucky and eternally grateful for.  

So in a nutshell, that’s where I have been.  Where I am going is the quickly approaching big 4-0 and in celebration, an accompanying full marathon which is something I swore I would NEVER do in the painful aftermath of the half!  Fast-forward a few months of training starts/stops, times of serious doubt, lessons in the importance of hydration (before, after and during running as well as before, after and during drinking wine), several issues of Runner’s World magazine, an addiction to all things Nike and random inspirational quotes (be prepared, I’m a sucker for a good quote) and here we go… 

I can’t promise any life altering wisdom or running advice (disclaimer: I have no idea what I’m doing so do NOT take anything written in this blog as advice for you own running or life!) but I think I can be pretty funny and some of what I have to say may resonate with you so why not give it a whirl, I mean, you’re already here so you might as well!

Cheers,

SF runner in training