How to Run a Marathon: Day 1

Okay, if you’ve been following my saga, you know today isn’t really “Day 1.” That was actually 18 months ago. Before my sprained ankle, before his hurt knees, before my broken nose….

…And one day after “The Promise.”

That was the day I learned it was all mental. And I was nowhere ready for an ACT in the sport. Continue reading

I Still Do–Even When We’re Limping Along

I Still Do--even when we're limping along

I Still Do–even when we’re limping along

The goal was romantic. What I didn’t take into account were injuries. I guess I figured I’d be hurting. After all, I hate the sport.

But my husband loves it. It’s always been his release. So I never expected to be able to do more than him. Yet suddenly he was in major pain, and I was burning up the road.

That is until a few weeks before.

Then all bets were off. Continue reading

The Marathon of Marriage: When You Have to Run in the Dark…

For those of you waiting for news of our marathon training, it’s been uphill and down—perhaps more figuratively than literally because, hey, we live in the Midwest.

No, our town’s not as flat as some places, but once when my daughter was learning to drive, we had to practice proper wheel turns for parking on a hill—Uphill, turn your wheels to the left. Downhill, turn them to the right—Finally, I found a spot and told her to show me what to do. She pulled over, looked at the road, and said, “Ok, but does this hill go up or down?”

Our town is pretty flat.

Our running? Well, some days it’s pretty flat, too. Other days…mountains…valleys…even a few volcanoes in there. Suffice it to say, it’s still on the horizon.

But more about that at a later date—I promise!

First, I want to tell you more about this husband that I’m running with—not just in training, but in life. Continue reading

Celebrating 25 Years and Counting…One Mile at a Time

How to start?

Maybe…

25 years ago, he gave me a rocking chair…

or… 7 days down, 267 to go…

or… I’m afraid keeping this promise is going to kill me! Continue reading