The Decision

Fed up with my sporadic work outs and diminishing physical fitness since my days as a high school athlete, I decided to accomplish my ultimate physical challenge—running a half marathon. Yes I am aware that there are people out there who run multiple marathons and accumulate thousands of miles running throughout their lifetime but we all have different goals. Those 13.1 miles would be challenging but one of the most rewarding bodily experiences. This was such a good idea. I had run a 5k (3.1 miles) before; all I had to do was times that by four!

I was so jazzed with my new year’s resolution that I went for my first run on Christmas day. I had started before the New Year, which would obviously put me ahead of schedule. I would definitely be greatly rewarded for my eagerness. So I set out on a run with my older sister, someone whom I viewed as somewhat equal to me in physical fitness. Rounding the park near our home, not even a mile into the journey, I had a revelation—I hated to run. I could think of thousands of reasons I hate running: it was hard, it hurt, I was hot, and I hated hills. Running a half marathon was the stupidest idea I had ever had in my entire life and there would be no way in hell I could accomplish it. As I was scolding myself for my so obvious unattainable goal, I heard my sister yell, “Hurry up, why are you walking?” “Shut up!” I lovingly replied. “I don’t want to run anymore!” I increased my speed and realized we were beginning to go downhill. Maybe I was being a bit dramatic and I wasn't going to die…