13.1 Miles of Audacity

So I’ve decided to train for a half marathon.

13.1 Miles of Audacity

Yes, you read that right. 13.1 miles. I have a three-year-old who thinks sleep is optional. I work twelve-hour night shifts. I haven’t run more than three miles at a time since… well, since before Sophie. And I’m doing it anyway.

Marcus looked at me like I’d announced I was joining the circus when I told him. “Babe, are you sure about this?” he asked, in that careful voice husbands use when they’re trying not to say the wrong thing.

The plan. 16 weeks to race day.

I showed him the training plan I’d printed out, all sixteen weeks of it, highlighted and annotated like I was studying for the NCLEX all over again. His expression shifted from concern to that look he gets when he realizes I’m serious about something. Equal parts proud and terrified.

The race is in May - the Flying Pig Half Marathon in Charlotte.

Week 1 starts tomorrow. No excuses.

I’ve already registered, already bought a training journal, already told my mom so she can guilt me into following through if I start making excuses. Sophie keeps trying to put on my running shoes and “run” around the house, which is either adorable encouragement or a sign that she thinks Mommy has lost her mind.

The details matter.

Either way, week one starts tomorrow. No backing out now.

Am I crazy? Probably. Am I going to do it anyway? Absolutely. Some days you just need to prove to yourself that you can still do hard things. This is one of those things.