Every story has a beginning, and this is mine...

I have my friend Alan to thank for finally getting my butt in gear to start this blog. Alan announced in writing to our running club the other day that he wanted to shave 17 seconds off his 5K time, aiming for a goal of 18 minutes. Alan is the kind of guy you just want to slap silly sometimes. Great guy, and very humble. And very fast. He felt that by "coming out" with his goal, he would then become accountable to achieving it. I get that.

I had been thinking of making public my own goal of running my next marathon in under 4 hours, and I think this blog will be a good start. By sharing my story, I hope to maintain my commitment to a very aggressive training program I'm starting in a few weeks. I give you my permission - even encourage you - to ask me from time to time how I'm doing. Knowing that others know what I'm doing (or should be doing!) keeps my butt moving and making progress.

This whole running thing started 4 years ago when my daughter was 6 months old. I had finally gotten into a wonderful groove of getting my baby and her 2-year-old brother to nap at the same time. It was a beautiful thing, and I celebrated their joint quiet time - my most precious 2 hours every afternoon - by fixing myself a large bowl of ice cream, complete with butterscotch syrup and M&Ms. I'd then plop on the couch and watch TLC while they snoozed. For months this was my routine, and my thighs were beginning to show it. One day I looked out the window and saw my neighbor Fernanda running by the house with 2 kids in a jogging stroller and 2 very large dogs on a leash. I looked down at my sundae, and decided things needed to change. I loved my "me" time - it was starting to grow on me. Literally. But I wasn't getting any healthier.

My friend suggested I try a 5K. We trained together, and at the end of the 3 miles I felt like a train had rolled over my sweaty body. This running thing was not for me. I was sure I was having a heart attack. This would never do. And yet, when we finished the race together, we high fived, and something changed in my heart. I knew I wanted to become more serious about running. And I wanted to run further. I trained for my first half marathon which I ran 5 months later. The next year I knew I'd run a full marathon.

Funny but when I trained for my first marathon - The Philadelphia Marathon of 2007 - I had no concept of how long it would take me. I completed all my training runs, but I never wore a watch or paid any attention to the time. When I registered for the marathon I was asked for an estimated finishing time. I think I put 5 hours, 30 minutes. I think I chose that time because I knew the course would officially close in 6 hours so they could reopen the roads. I could definitely run it under 6 hours.... right? Oh God I truly hoped I wouldn't be forced off the road after 6 hours! OK, so I ran it in 4 hours, 40 minutes. The next day, I read in Runners World magazine that the average time for a woman in my age group running her first marathon was 4 hours, 41 minutes. I was ecstatic! I had run my first marathon. My goal was to run one marathon and call it a day - this was going to be a once in a lifetime thing. Something to check off my list. But I loved it and couldn't wait to plan my next one.

One year later, I ran the same marathon in Philly - this time in 4 hours, 27 minutes. I ran with a pace leader named Star who promised to run us in within 4 hours, 30 minutes. I was happy to have shaved so many minutes off my previous time!

So what was next for me? I happened to be browsing running books and came across one called "Four Months to a Four Hour Marathon." So last year, 2009, that became my goal. I wanted to run my next marathon, my 3rd Philadelphia Marathon, in under 4 hours.

I trained hard for 16 weeks (which followed a very intensive winter Boot Camp I attended for 3 months, during which I lost 16 lbs!). I did speed work at the track, tempo runs, etc. This was the first time I had ever trained for a particular speed. And I was working hard. But I was not feeling confident that I could take a whopping 27 minutes off my personal record. There was no way. My tempo runs were feeling uncomfortably fast, and I knew I would not be able to keep that pace for 26 miles. I began to rethink my goal. I spoke with a reputable running coach who said my training plan was pretty bogus. I got discouraged. A friend - actually, the same neighbor who had run by with her kids and dogs all those years before - talked me into a more realistic goal - to run this race in under 4 hours, 15 minutes. That was doable. I ran it in 4 hours, 12 minutes. And it was the toughest marathon I'd run thus far. I felt myself working so much harder and I really hit the wall at Mile 20 - I was dehydrated and frankly very happy to have finished alive let alone under goal. I took 15 minutes off my previous time and was thrilled! It felt good to keep getting faster!

So that's the beginning of the story.

This is my year for the 4 hour marathon. I'm really hoping it is. I found a better training plan. It's agressive. It involves 2 speed workouts every week and lots more mileage during the week, in addition to the long run on the weekends. But I think I'm up for it. At least, I'm going to try!

I give God all the glory for allowing my legs to do what I love to do so much. At Mile 14 of my first marathon, I was reminded of a verse I had memorized years before - hadn't thought about it in so long, but here it is: "But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not be faint." This verse from Isaiah gave me just that boost I needed to run the next 6 miles until my friend Laura ran me to the finish. I knew my friends in Connecticut were praying for me at that moment. It was awesome.

This evening I had a fantastic run and time to reflect on things. It's amazing - I grew up thinking I was just not athletic. My parents told me we were just "not athletic people." I think they were trying to protect me from disappointment over failure. I excelled in music and theater and never tried out for sports teams. I was pretty thin my whole life and never even really exercised. So running was never something I did until that postpartum time after my daughter was born. Running, for me, has become more than just the yearly marathon. It is time to myself. Time to reflect. Time to get stronger. Time to get better. Time to be better for my family. Time to set goals and achieve them. Time to not let life get stale. It's so much more than just exercise and a little sweat. I love it. And I am so thankful God encouraged me to start running in my late 30s - many runners don't reach their peak until their 40s. I'm almost there. I'm excited!

That's my story. I'll keep you updated as I train. And please feel free to kick my butt once in a while. I need it!