Thirteen Miles, Dairy Cows and Me

Forty eight hours ago I registered for the Clo Cow Half Marathon. This act marks an extreme aberration for me, and will undoubtedly be quite shocking to those who know me well, because my friends and family all know, and I’ll be the first to admit, that I am not even remotely athletic. Not in the slightest sense of the word.

I hate to sweat. I look ridiculous in workout clothes. My competitive drive does not extend to athletic contests. In adulthood I’ve never felt even the vaguest inclination to join a team, gym, or go on a yoga retreat. Sure, I played sports in high school, but I was awful and mostly joined to socialize with my girlfriends and get of some afternoon classes.

I haven’t really cared for—or thought much about--sports since, and mercifully I’ve been able to maintain my figure and physical well being without a spin class. When I dream, I dream of the Amalfi Coast at sunset, Captain Wentworth, and Ballenciaga gowns; not an endorphin rush from running thirteen miles of country roads at the crack of dawn.

So why am I doing this? The reasons are nebulous, but I think that my impetus lies somewhere in fact that when I look to the future, I sense that as the years unfold my life will change radically from what I’ve known up until this point. Until recently I had just myself to worry about, now I have a husband and infant daughter. As she grows, she’ll look to me to set examples in self-discipline and self-care.

Though I’ve enjoyed excellent health throughout my life, there’s no guarantee that it will continue. If I am the master of my fate, then it’s incumbent upon me to do what I can so that my future is as pleasant as my past has been. I’ve heard rumors that running’s good for you and that it allegedly has some health benefits, so I’m giving it a whirl.

At seven o’clock on the morning of September sixteenth I’m running 13.1 miles. The course will take me down old country roads through rolling hills of prime Sonoma County dairy country. At least it’ll be pretty to look at. Right now I find the prospect to be both exhilarating and terrifying, but I’m sure that once the training begins the excitement will fade into drudgery---at least for awhile. Perhaps this is the beginning of a new athletic chapter in my life, or it could just be a big mistake. I hope it’s not.