12 May 2009

I Can And I Will

Six months from now, I will look underneath my belt and see "Nike Women's Marathon."

Mariana suggested we run it and after dismissing it entirely, I agreed. We'll be part of the Team in Training running to benefit The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. I don't have any specific connection to Leukemia and Lymphona (and would prefer to run for Multiple Sclerosis) but a cause is a cause and they're going to train me to be a distance runner. In exchange, I'll be a fundraiser. I'm less than thrilled about asking people for money, but I'll do it. Each of us has a fundraising goal, and we have to pay the difference if we don't meet it. So get your wallets ready.

I started telling people and they started telling people. That (by the way) is the easiest way to not back out of doing something. I'm excited to do this. I fully believe I can do it. I admit I'm not ready to do it just yet, but I am ready to train for it. I want to finish, and be changed in the process. I want to learn to run well. I want to have supervision, a network of support, and a deadline. The Team in Training will be my class, and the marathon will be our final. The training program (from what I've been told) is exactly what I want. I'm not good at teaching myself new things. I accept too many of my own excuses. But I am dependable, and knowing I'm expected to show up to training and run 13.1 miles for my donors is what it will take for me to get the job done. So most of the chips are in place for a successful showing. Most. But not all.

There is a cloud looming over my training. His name is Jesse, and he's usually my loudest cheerleader. He doesn't think I should do it, which I can understand. But he doesn't think I can do it, and that really bothers me. Let's start with Jesse's points.

  • I'm not a runner.
  • I'm not built like a runner.
  • I've never been a runner.
  • I've never been an athlete.
  • I'm top heavy.
  • That much running could damage my joints.
  • Running is boring.
  • Running is hard.
  • I'm going to chafe.
  • I'm going to get blisters.
  • He'll have to take care of me.
Those are all valid excuses, and surmountable problems. None of those excuses is reason enough to not try. What's worse is Jesse is usually very good at ignoring obstacles. I'm usually predicting Doomsday and he's usually finding the silver lining for every cloud. Now he's bringing the clouds, and I'm just going to let it rain.

Whenever we talk about it, other people join my excitement while Jesse stays quiet. He acts as if I'm going to run the race tomorrow, without any training at all, yet alone training designed for beginners. He acts as if I haven't been running on the treadmill and building stamina. He's acting as if I don't know I need training. He's acting as if I'm being foolish.

I don't expect him to say "I'll support you," but he hasn't even said "I'll help you." I told him it was clear he was against me, and he offered to never discuss it again - which I think further proves my point. I started to question myself. Maybe I can't do it. Is there something he knows about me that I don't know about myself? And then I laughed a little. Jesse knows me well, but I'm the chief Danieologist. I'm the only expert there is on me and I know I can do this. I don't know why Jesse is choosing to not support me. Trying to determine that put me in a bad mood. He's still in denial about his feelings. He has said very little (and nothing positive) about me running this race. I do recall I supported him when he said "I think I'm going to quit my job and go to Thailand for six weeks." I remember defending his decision to everyone we knew, while he was off enjoying the beaches and whiskey buckets. I didn't wane when people told me he deserted me, that I shouldn't have "allowed" it, and that he was likely just going to take advantage of the whores.

Bottom line: I've encouraged him to do all sorts of things because I knew they would make me happy. And now, when I have a far fetched (yet reasonable) aspiration he comes to me with "you're not built like a runner."

Really Jesse?

Come October, I'll be able to throw this in his face for the rest of our lives.