How Long is a Marathon, Anyway?

When I mention to non-runners that I am in training for a marathon, I get a mix of responses. 
Some are encouraging: Wow, good for you! and That seems like it would take some serious commitment! What an inspiration! Others are annoyed or incredulous, as though extreme fitness and endurance is a serious lapse in judgement, or even a sin: You're nuts/crazy/insane!  or That's disgusting ... who in their right mind would want to put themselves through that?? But my favorite responses are: Oh wow, that sounds like quite the challenge! ... How long is a marathon again?


As a "runner," I have known for as long as I can remember that a full marathon is 26.2 miles, while a half-marathon is, logically, half of 26.2 (thus 13.1 miles).  Now that I have one marathon under my belt, I still remember how each chunk of miles felt and how excruciating it was to push through those last six to ten. I can also clearly recall how exhilarating it was to cross the finish line in one piece, trying to comprehend the distance I had just managed to cover. (I immediately burst into tears the moment I saw the finish tape.) So when I have to fill people in as to the distance I plan to race, it makes me feel that much cooler to throw out a number that could be up to ten times longer than the average Joe might attempt at any given time.

But over these past two months, as I tried to diligently put in the training miles, and then record the numbers into my training log, I would automatically take the time to relate my success or my failure of that day's run to whatever else was going on in my life. I am a self-described "over-analyzer" and I can't just turn off the relating and the analyzing. It just happens until all of my thoughts are compartmentalized into nice little boxes.

Finally, a couple weeks ago, there was just too much analysis and too much thinking going on. There's too much that can't be put into nice neat little boxes in my head. Although running, and exercise in general, is supposed to help alleviate stress and get the endorphins pumping, my marathon training turned into just one more stressor on my plate full of things that have been keeping me awake at night and things that cause sudden panic attacks, where it gets hard to catch a full breath. I didn't want to think about everything that I have to battle on a daily basis anymore. And that meant I didn't want to take any time during the day where it was just me and myself: "So, Hills, what's new?" No thanks.

So, in order to stop thinking and stop panicking, I stopped running.

In the last two weeks, I've run once. It was a night run, with my Mr. Wonderful and his dog, and we pushed each other only as fast as we could keep a somewhat easy stride with each other. We did a short 2.5 mile loop around the neighborhood and high-fived at the end. For that run, I didn't think about anything else but getting to be next to him and making sure I didn't run onto the furry feet of our four-legged running buddy.

Otherwise, I have been very hesitant to slip on my tenny-runners and turn on my iPod. It just seems like more work than it's worth. But I know that's not going to help quiet the analysis and eventually I'm going to have to face the ingrained need to compartmentalize the daily chaos and the turmoil that fills my consciousness. Eventually, it'll probably all come shooting back at me, like a shaken soda bottle, and rather than just be tired or annoyed with having to "think" about it, I'll be totally overwhelmed!

So, against my brain's desperate pleas to find something "more productive" to do, I'm going to inch back into this whole running thing with a yoga class. I'll have to quiet my mind and allow any discomfort into my head for an entire hour! And then maybe tomorrow, I might actually take the stroller for a spin.

I just need to keep reminding myself that, even if I don't actually race the entire physical distance I originally set out to do, I'm certainly still in training for a marathon. But my marathon isn't based on 26.2 miles, it's based on enduring my divorce, and on living through the "terrible threes" that seem to have suddenly consumed my angelic baby girl, and on surviving everything else in between that seems to take more energy than I have to give. There's no finish line in sight, but I know that I can keep plugging and keep pushing and I will make it through this in one piece.