A mini marathon. 26.2 feet. 42.2 metres. I’m not sure my math is right. But at my current level of (un)fitness, a turtle distance marathon would push me beyond my physical limit. I get winded just saying marathon. Shelly and her sweatband would leave me behind like that infamous Hare. My legs have forgotten how to run. Silently willing them to move faster has proven ineffective. Not so silently commanding them to go faster has similarly failed to work. My once light step has transformed into a painful clomp. My long run pace has become my tempo run pace. Half the distance seems twice as far. The glare from the untouched white pages of my logbook blinds me. My already paid for race entries mock me. It’s official, my new training cycle has begun. I survived week one. Barely. In the words of Shelly the Turtle, how did I get into this?
Title Reference: Cat Stevens – The First Cut is the Deepest. From the album New Masters. 1967.
Admittedly, “How did I get into this?” does seem a rather familiar feeling
A statement I utter at least once a week. It works in so many contexts. Like jail.
Great video — perfectly sums up my day: this morning I ran (ran being a relative term) the Boston Prep 16-miler in Derry, NH — long hills, steep hills, every variety you can imagine. In a word: relentless. Shelly, I feel your pain! And Runshorts, as I read each of your sentences I’m sittin’ here all “yup…yup…that happened…” But, being through it, don’t you feel at least a little victorious?!
I’m all about the feeling when it’s over. That race sounds …. awesome. In a torturous way.
sign me up for a 26.2 foot race! sounds much more reasonable than miles.
If Oprah can do it, you can too!
hum… yeah your math is not quite right
a foot is smaller then a meter (1 ft = 0.3048 meters) so 26.2 feet is actually 7.99 meters… sorry, I know that’s a bummer. 8 meters run doesn’t sound quite as glorious as a 42.2m would 
- Kloé
In my current flu-addled condition your new-fangled 8 metre math
is much more appealing than my 42 metre math.