The 1/2

I signed up to kill myself. It's true. For some reason back in October or November I got the genius idea to suggest running in a half marathon to my sister, who happens to be a professional runner. Whatever possessed me to suggest running a half marathon I will never know. And now I am going to die because of it.

If you can remember from my near death experience a few months ago, I am not a runner. I am not an athlete. I don't exercise. My idea of exercise is walking up and down the stairs with a few loads of laundry and taking the pup on a little walk - around the yard. I ran once. In college. When I had to. I was getting graded on it. Since leaving college (which is longer than I would like to admit) I have not run a single mile, with the exception of the one a few months ago that nearly killed me. And now I've gone done decided to sign up of a 1/2 Marathon. Crazy.

At least Princesses will be there. That's the only way I knew I would even do it: princess had to be involved. Even still, I'm an official crazy. In approximately six weeks I am going to have to run 13 straight miles. 13 miles. Run. 13 miles. o. good. gravy. I am going to die. I just thought you should know that. It's been nice knowing you.

Thankfully I haven't died yet from all that running. I've been running three miles during the week and running a super long time on the weekends ... the sad part about it is that the longest distance I have run so far is eight miles and I have to run 13 whole miles. O what was I thinking? Apparently I wasn't.

Thankfully I have a wonderful sister who Loves running and I can call and whine and complain to her about how I am about to kill over dead from running three miles. And thankfully she is running the 1/2 with me. I know for a fact that if she wasn't, I wouldn't be. No way. It would have to be a cold day in ... no. So much so that I didn't even register. I made my sister do it. Even though I was the one with whole free long empty days and she had a family to take care of and a job. I knew that I didn't have enough guts to sign up. She did. So I had to pay her back. Motivation, right? Right. Now that I've paid for it, I have to run it. That's a big fat chuck of motivation right there.

Anyhow. I'll let you know before I die from running 13 consecutive miles.