Okay, So Maybe I Won't Win After All

The marathon. You know. The Marine Corps Marathon (MCM, for all the newbie marathoners out there)? At the end of October? In Washington, D.C.? That I signed up for with my sister-in-law, Jen, to show solidarity with her as we support my brother, Rob, who is on deployment until mid-December?

Oh, yeah. That marathon.

It seemed like a good idea at the time. After all, I walked 26 miles last year and didn't completely kill myself (Veronica and Tom, my walk-mates, don't read this, so no worries about the truth coming out on that one ... and don't ask my kids!). And, I can run 6 miles (Hah! Turns out my 6 miles is actually 6.5, so two loops becomes not 12 but 13, and three loops becomes not 18 but ... hold onto your hats, 19.5!!!!) without much trouble.

So, I signed up for the MCM. (Jen: "You have to do it quickly because it fills up really fast." Or, in English translation for us non-marathoners: "Sign up and pay quickly because if you think about it too long, you'll never do it; and once you've committed to the money and it gets sold out, you'll feel obligated to do it, won't you?") It was still a long way off when I signed up. And, I had all summer to train, didn't I?

Now, Now, Now, as summer turns to fall, and September reaches its half-way mark, and October events loom large ...... the panic is beginning to set in.

For a while, I was doing really well, after a less than spectacular summer. Turned out I could not run in the Outer Banks, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself I could. I don't care any more if Rob can run with the camels. His feats of aerobic strength, coupled with my other brother's ongoing marathon successes, are NOT providing me any degree of comfort or inspiration these days. There's a reason the Ethiopians win marathons, and Americans don't. No one would confuse me with an Ethiopian, so why should I believe I can run in African-style heat? I simply can't. So, I didn't. Couldn't.

When I returned to Massachusetts, I did very well, if I do say so myself. Even got up to 18 miles (which I later found out was actually 19.5 ....WooHoo!!) in 3 hours. Put that in your hat and smoke it, baby. That put me at finishing in just a little over 4 hours, which was MUCH better than I had originally planned.

So, of course, with a little bit of success under my belt, I started running harder. Faster. Longer. As if my life depended on it. As if I was going to break some record. You know, the one for "First Time Female Marathoner Who Just Turned 46, Trying To Prevent Thighs From Falling Down Past Knees." They have a prize for that, don't they? I swear Jen told me they did.

Well, even if they did, I wouldn't win it. Because, at this point, as I sit here typing, I have one bag of peas on my right hip/buttock, and one under my right calf. My right leg is killing me. It started hurting last week and after four days rest, lots of peas, and plenty of ibuprofen, I went running today. Only 6.5 miles. Not too fast, with plenty of walking added in. I made it, but half-way through I was worried I would have to stop at a friend's and call for a ride.

What to do, What to do. I feel like I can't give up now, and I'm not going to. But, I have to re-examine my goals for the finish. No trophies, for one. Just finishing, for two, as I have told people from the beginning.

It's just that in my heart of hearts, I had hoped to do a little better than just finish.

Of course, when I examined the course, which you can see by clicking HERE and going to the course map (which is awesome, by the way, as the course passes virtually every single monument and sight-seeing stop that Washington, D.C. has within its city limits), I noticed some fine print down in the right hand corner. It says, and I quote: "Beat The Bridge: Runners have until 1:15 p.m. to reach the 14th Street Bridge before it re-opens to vehicular traffic. Runners unable to reach this mile 20 landmark will be asked to board the stragglers bus. To meet this timeline, a 14-minute per mile pace is required."

WHAT? No one said ANYTHING about a Stragglers' Bus when I was considering doing the race. As if I needed anything Else to panic me. Now I have to worry about being a STRAGGLER? Isn't it enough that I'm going to be a 46 year-old first time marathoner trying not to kill myself? Now I run the risk of having to climb aboard a bus for STRAGGLERS?

Well, forget that. If I don't make it to that bridge before it "re-opens for vehicular traffic," then I'm going to ditch the route and take a seat at the closest bar and drink myself into a stupor. Bill and the kids will have to wheel me onto the plane later that afternoon. And then, they'll have a story to remember. WooHoo!

Counting Your Way To Happiness

There's a new study, recently reported in Time magazine, asserting that counting money can make you happier. Really. Truly. If you don't believe me, go to the article yourself at http://www.time.com/time/business/article/0,8599,1912574,00.html. According to the study, published in the journal Psychological Science, "thumbing through your cash can reduce emotional and physical pain as well as increase feelings of internal strength, fearlessness and confidence. The study also finds that there is an equally true flip side to this coin: When people are reminded of their recent spending, they report higher levels of both psychological and physical distress." The article recommends, a bit tongue in cheek, that potential job seekers -- as well as men hoping to meet women -- should count their cash before heading out to an interview or a bar, because the cash counting gives people a sense of "greater feelings of inner strength and self-sufficiency."

Now, if that isn't the biggest crock of You-Know-What that I've ever heard, may I be struck by lightning as I continue to troll the internet for articles that make sense!!

Except, Wait... Hold On.... Maybe it does make sense. Maybe I should try it before I head out on my next torturous, pre-marathon long run (18 miles and counting, thank you very much). If I knew that all I had to do was count money to raise my spirits and give me inner strength, I'd have begun doing so years ago. But Wait, Hold On, Maybe we should all try it.

Let's do our own experiment. For all my blog readers (all 3 of you, not including my mother and sister...), let's start counting a wad of money every morning before we head out the door. I don't think the wad has to be made up of anything larger than $1 bills, so everyone can try this. If you don't have cash lying around, just do what I do and borrow from your kids when they're not watching (don't worry, I'm safe, my kids stopped reading this blog months ago...). Roll up all those $1's in a big wad, then COUNT! Do it for a week, alternating days, and let me know if counting money had any impact on your spirits/fortune that day. Heck, it's worth a try. Life couldn't be MORE stressful as a result of counting money, could it?

By now you are probably wondering how I even bumped into this latest piece of psychological breakthrough. (And if you're not, I'm going to tell you anyways, you know that...) I was seriously searching for information to explain man/woman's fascination with counting, and with measuring time.

Lately, in my life as well in many others' lives, I'm sure, there appears to be some extra focus on measuring things in time units. This is NOT merely because my 20th Wedding Anniversary is tomorrow, though I'm sure that has something to do with it. Lots of family and friends around us seem focused on counting down things, as if to wish away the time between today and some future date. In some cases, this is completely understandable, though in other cases, not so much.

For example, in the case of my brother, currently deployed overseas in Africa, fighting pirates and trying to survive in 120-degree heat, you can understand why he and his squadron are so excited about "Hump Day" and counting down the remaining three months of his deployment. With my kids, you can understand their counting down the days until school starts, though some of them are doing so with dread while others do it with excitement for the upcoming year.

Still, less understandable are the people who are constantly preoccupied with counting the days until the lawn needs to be mowed again, or those counting the days left in the school year, or even the people counting the days until the Super Bowl. What is with people's need to speed up time, to wish away the days instead of living each day as it comes along?

We all need to live just a bit more in the moment. Enjoy the sunshine, the fresh air, and the anticipation of what happiness lies ahead. We shouldn't have to count out a wad of bills to realize how lucky we are to live in America, to have public school opportunities for all our children -- male and female -- and to have to worry about simple things like whether or not our lawn will be mowed any time soon. Some of the things we worry about are going to happen whether we count them up, down, sideways or not at all. What we need to do is stop worrying so much about things we can't control and live, live, live..... Today.