26.2 or Bust

I can't believe I'm writing this.

You know that sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that won't go away.  Yeah, that one.  The one that tells you, it's time.  You've got to give it a whirl, put your best foot forward and own that "thing" that won't seem to stop permeating your consciousness.

Well, for me, that crazy ass bucket dream is running a marathon or 26.2 miles.

It's been a little over 18 months since I started running and in that time, I've run 4 half marathons, a handful of 5-K and 10-K races and logged in lots of lots of mileage in several pairs of shoes.

Definitively, running has transformed my life.  I am stronger.  I endure longer.  And, I'm more "me" than I've been in a very long time.

So, as I was chatting it up with a guy at my local running store, he said, "What keeps you from going the distance?"

To which I internally replied, "I can't," but said out loud to him, "I'm not sure.  I guess I don't want to lose my joy of running by having a really awful experience pushing myself farther than I should."

He laughed and said, "Come on...at least try it once, then, you can put one of those stickers on your car and join the cool club."

I brushed it off and thought, I'm a mom of three little kids.  I absolutely don't have time or energy to log in 30 plus mile training weeks.  And, who the hell do I think I am?  There's no way.

And then, it wouldn't go away...the nagging, the gnawing, the wondering, the hoping, and always the fear that if I don't, I'll never know.  And, it could, dare I say, be amazing.

And so, next May 2014, my plan is to run the Lincoln Marathon and my prayer is that I'm not that woman who lost control of her bowels and crapped herself while crawling across the finish line in Boston.  Because really, I've got enough troubles with poop at my abode.

Until then, if you see me, just lie and tell me that I can do it.  I'm in an all out battle with my mind and heart right now, I need all the support I can get because damn it...I'm all about putting that cool kid club sticker on my beat up Honda.

Joining the iPhone Club

So last night, I joined the cool kids club and bought my first iPhone.

You should have seen the dudes in the Apple store.  It was like Christmas, Hanukkah and the Fourth of July all mixed into one over-the-top shindig.  They were all super happy to find the one and only iPhone virgin in the universe.  They had fun indoctrinating me into the world of milk and honey.

Seriously.  I've had the same android smart phone for three years.  It's been fine.  It's done the trick when it comes to email, text messages, facebook, etc....but, the battery sucked...literally.

And so, in preparation for my trip to run the Chicago Half Marathon, I've been researching iPhones and whether or not to wait until the iPhone 5 comes out in September/October.

After much deliberation and the fact that the race is on September 9th (and ultimately, I don't want to get caught on the subway with a dead phone), I decided to go for it.

I'm sure I'll be envious of my husband when he gets the fifth generation phone this fall.

That said, now, I GET it.  I used to ask people all the time why they liked their iPhone.  They could never really tell me.  Except that much like anything really good in life, once you've had a taste, you'll never go back.

And so, yes, it is incredibly intuitive...super user friendly...beautifully designed and incredibly fun to ask Siri questions.  But mostly, its cool, that's all.

Kinda like running.