So I attended the informational meeting about the marathon. I found out that there were two marathons in which I could run/crawl: one in Honolulu in December, the second in Arizona in January. Honolulu is a full marathon. Arizona gives runners the option of running either a full marathon or half-marathon and features one-hit wonder bands playing their songs at different points along the route. I’m thinking that basically everyone aims for the Honolulu Marathon, and the ones who can’t quite cut it end up running the half-marathon in Arizona. And as they’re running around the friggin’ desert listening to “Unskinny Bop” for the tenth time, they’re kicking themselves in the ass because they aren’t running along a beach in Hawaii toward a pineapple drink and a cabana boy awaiting them at the finish line. I’m aiming for the Honolulu Marathon. But I’m brushing up on my “Mambo No. 5” just in case.
Do I think I can really run a marathon? Hmmm. Physically, I know I can. Physically, I can do anything I set my mind to. It’s the “set my mind to” part that might become a problem. But as I sat at the informational meeting and watched three people stand up when they asked if anyone training was a stroke survivor, I realized that there was no turning back. These people have trouble walking; some have partial paralysis of half their bodies. Some of them are here to train to walk a marathon. These people, like my grandfather once did, exert more effort getting dressed in the morning than I, an able-bodied person, do in an entire week. I owe it to them—and to my grandfather, and mostly to myself—to get off my ass and use this body I take for granted. And in doing so, I’ll show my admiration and respect for those stroke survivors who are training alongside me, while raising money for stroke research. It seems like a win-win to me.
So this is where it all starts. The main goal is to not have a stroke while doing the marathon. It’s important to dream big, you know.
