Paying Homage to Pastimes (Part 1 of....)

I need a pastime. 

This is no joke. However, I find it to be a little of a misleading statement.  Lets be honest, I have plenty of pastimes.  I just want more. I feel like I will be reviewing these pastimes in a little more depth over the course of a few posts, so lets start with the easy one:

Running

I have enjoyed the sport of running off and on for a number of years.  I never really considered myself a "runner".  Maybe a jogger?  Maybe.  Even that was a bit of a stretch in my own mind.   Running was hit or miss for me.  At the age of 12 I was told running a marathon was never going to be something I would do.  and I spent the better portion of the next 3 decades believing this and allowing it to affect my level of activity in this sport.  

However, about 2 years ago I was told the only thing limiting myself was my own limitations I had placed.  This sort of motivational slogan can be found on any number of touchy-feely,
made to make you feel like you can actually reach the moon with your your ambitions alone type of poster, or handed out in a packet at an overly priced seminar given by a guy whose only real form of income is the suckers paying exorbitant prices to listen to said windbag say the same thing.  The difference here, for me anyway, it wasn't on a poster.  It didn't come from a seminar.  It came from a person, who simply believed what she was saying was true.  And I found myself believing it as well.  

As I began this crazy process of setting up myself for what amounts to a masochistic form of self inflicted torture (more on that at a later time), it was not an easy beginning.  When I started, I went for a three mile run.  Just three.  I felt like I might have died at about two.  But I did it.  And I kept doing it.  more and more. Longer and longer.  

People, lets be clear, people spend a full year training for their first half marathon.  13.1 miles.  I attacked the pavement with such a vengeance that it was only a few months before I was hitting half marathon distances on evening runs in the evening after work.  I would barely start to sweat before 3 or 4 miles.  

Despite what a person on the outside looking might think, I was not quite willing to call myself a runner.  I wouldn't even call myself a jogger.  I would simply say, "I like to run."  

How did I change this?  Because, I do call myself a runner now.  I ran a marathon.  

This is one of those things people put on their bucket lists.  Accomplish this goal before they die?  Are you kidding me?  I attacked this goal with a vengeance.  The results were outstanding:

 

As a side note, there is a whole corner of the internet dedicated to bad race photos, which will probably get some screen time around here at a later date.  I will say this is not the worst of them out there. 

Anyway, it took this feat of accomplishment and enduring hours of torturing my my body in order to feel like I had truly earned the right to call myself a runner.  Now I do.  Without even a hesitation.  There were times during this 4.5 hour ordeal where I had to question my own sanity.  I believe there could be a whole post devoted to the thought process that happens at various stages of a marathon, but will let it suffice to say the thoughts range from feelings of excitement, nervousness, and invincibility to those of desperation, quitting, and near suicidal intimations.   A person should safely assume suicide was never a real option, as this post would not exist should I have followed through on that idea.  

Of course, then came the long period of inactivity after. And the regrowth of my toenails has been a long process for certain. But I am generally back in the saddle.  I would not claim consistency as my strongest point.  But running is certainly a pastime.  One I thoroughly enjoy.  I may not be crazy fast, but I can go the distance.  And I truly do love it. 

Come to think of it, I think I'll go running tonight.