I'm not really a runner

I'm not really a runner; I never have been. In high school I was a glorified couch cushion—I never played any sports. Until about two years ago I couldn't even run a mile. Somehow my mom convinced me (and half my family) to run a 5K last November, and since then I've been running regularly. (I ran Crazylegs, an 8K in Madison, this April in 39:29.)

But I still wouldn't consider myself a runner. I don't live and breathe running, and I'm not incredibly good at it. But if Weezy is not a human being but still does things normal human beings do, then I see no reason why me, a non-runner, can't run a marathon.

That crackpot thought occurred to me the other day, and I decided to do Hal Higdon's novice marathon training (more or less just to see whether it really worked). My initial idea was to train up for my own, invented marathon. Today, though, I decided to just do it. To sign up for the Chicago Marathon this October.

Registration was closed, though, but I was still able to sign up as a charity runner, making it all the more awesome. I'll be running for Rock for Reading. Let's do it.

At least having 26.2 miles on the horizon makes the prospect of the mere 10-mile deathcourse I have coming up in July seem much less terrifying.