In honor of Douglas Adams

[justalurkr]

I told the truth about my age the year I turned 42.

In honor of who know what, I've decided to speak the truth about my age at any age ending in zero, which means I'm fessing up to my 50th come this second of October.

Question:
How nuts is it to decide a half-marathon would be a peachy way to celebrate my 50th--roughly 11 weeks in advance of said half-marathon?


(answer after googling "training for a half-marathon": VERY, as the Runner's World beginner's instructions assume not only that I've raced a few 5 and 10ks, but that I can "run for an hour without distress.")

What on Earth possessed me even to consider it? The fact that there is one scheduled on my birthday right here in Atlanta.

Comments

[nialla]

Is it bad that it sometimes takes me a few moments to answer my age, not because I don't want to tell people, but because I honestly pay so little attention to it that I don't have the number ready in my mind?

In answer to your question: Chock full of nuts.

[justalurkr.livejournal.com]

It's a much healthier outlook than having to stop and figure out by how much I'm fibbing this year, though it's led to some entertaining errors in arithmetic.

Answer to your answer: yes, exactly. As the half marathon 10/2/11 at Oglethorpe also takes walkers as long as they finish in 3 1/2 hours, I will shoot for that. I do feel the need for a grand, old age defying gesture, and this is more tasteful (and easier) than showing up at Dragon*con in a chainmaille bikini.

I also blame Christopher McDougall and his seductive "Born to Run" ways. After all, if grandaddies in huraches can run ultramarathons, what's my dysfunction? As it turns out: shoes.

[nialla]

I'm slightly better than my father, who does not pay attention to the calendar at all. He's a farmer, he pays attention to the seasons, not dates. He forgets his own birthday, much less my mother's or mine. He theoretically knows the dates, it's just he doesn't always realize what today is.

There's no way I could do a marathon. I've blown both knees and ankles so many times, I've lost count. I've had rehab twice on a torn calf muscle, so the thought of walking for long (or worse, getting a cramp in that muscle group) terrifies me.

We won't even get into the "I'm not a sparkly vampire, but my meds make me feel like an old-fashioned burning vampire in a matter of minutes if I'm in the sun" thing.