I love a good plan.
Like really love a good plan.
So when I decided to train for a half marathon, I knew I needed a good training schedule. One that made me feel like I could actually do it, but that would kick my butt in the process. So like any resourceful woman in 2014, I went to Pinterest for all the answers.
And after pinning about ten different training schedules, I picked the one that looked the easiest.
Or so I thought. Maybe it was the underlined “can” that got me or how positive the dang thing sounded, but I read it over and it sounded do-able.
Wellll, apparently, I picked a pretty aggressive training routine for my first half marathon. At least that’s what my dad (professional runner of marathons and half marathons for over 40 years) said after I was about four weeks in and he got a chance to check it out.
But I was already on my way and wasn’t stopping.
I chose a 12-week training plan, but started it in January for my May race. I liked that idea of doubling up on some weeks, giving myself a little more time to add the miles. I’ve thrived on this schedule. I had no idea how much I would like following someone else’s plan for exercise. I have no problem getting myself to the gym and moving, I can bike, run, walk, weight train, or any number of other machines plus an occasional exercise class. I don’t get bored easily, and I have my routines. But following this schedule was exciting.
I know how ridiculous that sounds.
But it’s like having a personal trainer doing all the legwork and I just show up everyday and do what I’m told. Even things I don’t want to do, I do because it is on the paper. That paper is magical; it is my boss, my accountability partner, my encourager, my enemy. It’s evil and I love it all at the same time.
Training is a funny thing. Getting into the mindset that I’m preparing my body for something big, this culminating event that I’ve been focused on for months is mindblowing. Who am I to be training for something? I’m a thirty-two-year-old mom of two that really loves taking naps, reading books, and drinking McDonald’s Diet Cokes. And I’m in-training. I’m some kind of athlete that has a full-time job, has to make dinner every night for my family, and wipes butts on the weekends.
And I’m running a half marathon for the first time in my life. I’ve never felt more prepared, more excited, or more ready.