Sitting on my couch yesterday afternoon, feeling grumpy and drinking my fourth cup of coffee of the day, I turned my head to the right just in time to see a girl running down K Street. So I thought to myself, "that could be, nay, should be, me!" And despite the cold and the first snow of the season (whee!) I suited up and went out and I don't think I've ever been so glad to have gone for a run. Four and some miles in the driving snow, and not another runner in sight until I got halfway across the Pleasure Bay causeway. He and I gave each other a look of solidarity and went on our respective ways. And I thought that I may not be built for speed, or for distance, but maybe I can be built for sheer stubborn, illogical determination.
The wind was directly and powerfully to my right as I crossed the bay, and I got snowflake after snowflake directly in my eyeballs. Which isn't really that bad.
As I made my trudging final steps in front of the K Street gym, I decided then and there that if there is a marathon on my 30th birthday, anywhere in the world, I am going there and I am running it.
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