Why I started running…
I always wanted to say that Iâ€™ve accomplished something noteworthy, and as a legitimate mid-30something, I am a perfect candidate for a midlife crisis.
Yes, I said mid-life.
You see, according to most sources, I have quite literally reached the middle of my life. I prefer the Social Security life expectancy table, which is as daunting as it is oblique (as all government documents apparently should be). According to this table, I have lived 36 years and have (statistically speaking) approximately 40.38 years of life left. Other tables give me fewer years, so Iâ€™ll take this one.
Now, the Social Security table also says I have a 0.001770 â€œdeath probability.â€ I have no idea what this means, though somehow I expect it has something to do with the equations that will someday result in my paltry Social Security check. But I digress.
The point is, governmental actuaries consider me to be half-way to the grave. Time to do something.
I chose running because it sounded like something easy to do. You just buy a decent pair of shoes and off you go. More to the point, running an actual marathon had the advantage of sex appeal, a key factor in any mid-life crisis worth its salt. A marathon is also a nice life checklist item. Right up there with sky-diving, just less insane.
Mind you, I had no real clue what I was in for, just a vague sense that running a marathon would take commitment and would be pretty hard.
I found a group interested in training for the 2005 Disney Marathon. 6 months before the race, I bought a so-so pair of New Balance shoes, doned my best baggy basketball shorts, and ran two grueling, exhausting miles. I immediately wondered if Iâ€™d ever make it.
So how did you get started?