Over the 2012 holidays, I came to realize that I was fat. Really fat. Gross fat. I wasn't taking care of myself, and I was taking my wife for granted. I deserved better and she deserved better. It took me until the middle of February 2013 to get my butt in gear. I started by trying to fix my diet. A month later, a friend gave me an old treadmill -- and boy, was that a revelation. I couldn't run more than a couple minutes without dying.
As the weather got warmer, I began to get out there and run. I also joined a gym. I ran my first 5k in June (though I'd done a few by myself). And then this summer, an odd thing happened: I started running farther. I got myself to five miles a couple times, and I began to feel pretty good about myself.
About a month ago, my brother-in-law was in town, so he and my other brother-in-law got together for drinks. And -- perhaps under the influence -- the three of us committed to the marathon. So now it's time to get serious. I've gone as far as 9.3 miles in less than an hour and a half.
Tomorrow I have an eight-miler planned, on a route I've never taken before. I'll let everyone (anyone?) know how it goes.
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