Why I'm running a half marathon

It's not that I want to run a half marathon; it's that I'm powerless to resist it.

Its gravitational pull has left me helpless. It's so obvious that I have to do this that it's never even occurred to me whether I want to or not.

I had toyed with the idea of running this thing ever since I moved to Nashville six years ago. The whole city shuts down the last weekend of April for this race, and it felt weird not to be part of it, even though I had never been that into long distance running. 

But I just couldn't pull the trigger.

I kept coming up with reasons not to do it:  It requires a whole lot of training, and I don't have much spare time.  The registration fee is high, and I don't win anything for my effort, so what's the point? April is an unpredictable weather month, and the conditions might be miserable.  The race might conflict with my training for the Jamaican bobsled team. 

I made that last one up, but you get the point.

This year, though, was different.

I had started running last year, when I couldn't process the stuff life was throwing at me through any other means. I guess Forrest Gump and I have that in common, along with being from Alabama.

I found that while I couldn't run escape the cancer in my family, the financial problems in my household or the deteriorating relationships in my life, I could still run away, if only for an hour, and that counted for something.

My weekly runs started out as a simple diversion, but before long finishing the route before me became a metaphor for making it through whatever else I was struggling with in my life.

As I began to associate running with overcoming the things that had stolen my joy, it was only natural that it started to feel like the only way I could ever reclaim my peace of mind was to finish the biggest race my city has to offer.

In the meantime, I've found that I like running.  Or at least, I like running until I get really tired, my legs hurt and I feel nauseous.

I've still never reached a state of enlightenment or felt a "runner's high," but I like having an hour or so to be alone with my thoughts and where my mind can roam aimlessly, at least until my body hurts so badly that I can't think of anything but finishing.

Even then, when I'm done, there's something rewarding about winning the struggle between my own limitations and the distance to my destination. 

It's that feeling that is pushing me forward into the 13.1 club.  I have to do this so that I can prove to myself I can. 

It's a symbol for overcoming every other overwhelming obstacle in life.  It will be a reminder that through hard work and progressive steps I can accomplish so much more than what seems possible, and that I'll be able to accomplish still more in the future than I can right now.

It's a starting point for crossing off those lingering life projects I've put on the backburner for too long, and becoming the person I know somewhere deep inside that I could be.

It's to be a final triumph to signal closure, hopefully, to at least a segment of a difficult period of life.  It's to reaffirm that hard times don't endure forever, and that there can be joy if we continue running until we reach the other side,even if it isn't always in sight. 

I realize that my other problems won't magically disappear once I cross the finish line, nor will an instruction manual pop into my hands to tell me how to fix them.

I'll still have too much debt, unfinished dreams, and imperfect relationships whether I run a half marathon or not.  But somehow, it seems like those issues will feel just a little less daunting if I know that the person facing them is the type of person who can persevere to finish a half marathon.

I just need to prove to myself that I'm that kind of person.