Before we go too far...

...there are some things I should mention.

This morning when I stepped on the scale, it said 194. (Let's hope that number goes down).

I had a banana and a piece of cheese before we got to the park.

Part of me thinks I'm not going to make it. (A really big part of me).

Part of me thinks I'm a fool for trying. (Maybe I should wait until I'm in better shape, say at the turn of the century?)

Part of me says I'm setting the bar too high. (Ask David, he knows all about Mom setting the bar).

Part of me says "SHUT UP ALREADY and RUN!"

Saturday Morning, Day 1

So this morning, instead of sleeping in my nice warm bed, I found myself, with my reading grade deficient 11 year old (progress reports came home yesterday -- 32%!! In reading!! He reads at 9th grade level!! But he forgot to write down in his log what he was reading, more than a few times. But this is a story for another day...) at Shoreline Park, off the Boise River, in downtown. David and I, and oh, about two hundred other folks, all in assorted running gear. The first day of training. Marathon training.

Boise Run Walk is an organization that promotes running as fitness. They say if you follow their training schedule, they can take a couch potato and turn them into a marathon finisher in 28 weeks. Notice I didn't say 4 minute miler. I said marathon finisher. I met more than one this morning. People who said they didn't exercise, didn't run, never done anything like this, and had completed one or two marathons, half-marathons, assorted 5K and 10K races, and the just completed Robie Creek half-marathon, here in Boise, recognized as one of the hardest half- marathons in the country. And they enjoyed themselves so much, they came back to do it again.

Over a dozen coaches, with different abilities, from the under 9 minute runners, to the walkers, there was a pace for everyone who showed up this morning. They covered what we needed to know, went over the training schedule, handed out some tips, and had a lot of laughs. It actually seemed like it might be fun. Even my surly 11 year old laughed at the jokes and said "Mom, this might be OK!" High praise indeed.

Then we took off. A three mile run today, to find your pace group. Lots of calls of "Go slow! Go slow!" It was an endurance run, not a speed run. I was ready! I have been walking for a couple of months, about three miles each time, with short runs mixed in with the walking. I felt good about being in the upper 3/5 of the group. Until my overweight 11 year old started getting farther and farther ahead of me. At first, he was just ahead of me, then a little more. He kept turning around to look at me over his shoulder. And using words I thought I wouldn't find myself saying for many a year yet, I told him, "Don't let me slow you down. Go on and find your own pace." Then he was gone. We were safely in the middle of the pack. I had no fear he was going to get lost, everyone had already associated him with me, and they'd give me updates as we passed each other.

He finished a full two minutes ahead of me, and under 45 minutes. I, on the other hand, came in just over 45 minutes. Did I mention he ran 3 miles on Friday, too? At his school's Fun Run. So, I was feeling pretty bad, with more determinaton to finish out my psychotic idea.

I signed myself up. Me and BRW for the next 28 weeks.

L.A. Marathon here I come...

OK, so posting to the blog has been less than regular.

Now there is another reason why posts will become more regular -- I need to track my progress on my newest (and some say most psychotic) adventure yet.

Growing up in Southern California, there were certain things I knew always happened at the same time, even though the rest of the country might or might not be aware of them. The last week of December, it just wasn't the 6:00 p.m. news unless they showed panic on the faces of float builders stuck in warehouses in Pasadena trying to get floats finished in time for the Rose parade come January 1st. (Not enough builders! Wrong seeds! Too cold! Rain! I missed those reports when I moved to Boise.) The Twilight Zone Marathon always happened on the Friday after Thanksgiving. You just knew that after serving turkey on Thursday, you were gonna see "To Serve Man" on Friday. No school and a full day of Rod Serling, I knew them by heart by the time I was 10. And speaking of marathons, the L.A. Marathon was always on the first Sunday of March (it wasn't this year, and I don't know why), so every few years or so, it landed on my birthday. I'd watch them for a bit, think about psychotic it must be to run through downtown L.A. at 8:00 a.m. on a Sunday morning, and move on with my life.

Now I'm 39, with two young kids, and not in the best physical shape I could be in, although I guess I could be far worse. Mackenzie is just five. I'm going to have to be around for awhile if I'm even thinking about sticking around long enough to be able to laugh at her when she stresses out about her kids!

Then the stars and moon aligned. In what I consider a sign, next year the L.A. Marathon falls on my birthday. My 40th birthday.