I signed up to run a half marathon.
. . .
Yes. I. Did.
I can't believe it. (I know, I know, there are people out there who run full-fledged marathons.) But this a big, huge, fat deal for me. I've said I would run one forever, but I haven't run consistently since high school cross country. I have exercised consistently every day for the last year, so I feel like I'm coming from a good place to start, plus I have friends running it too. And I want to do this. I know it will be hard, but I know I will be so, so proud of myself if I do it.
When I was finishing my 3-miler yesterday, I started thinking, "yeah, girl! you got it! you can totally do this!" and then I thought "but a half marathon is ten miles longer than this." And it kind of made me want to cry. Obviously I instantly realized this was a bad way to view things. I am working my way up, baby! So what if I can only run 4-5 miles right now? It's like I tell Bria every time she complains about walking anywhere: if you keep going when you're tired, that's what makes you stronger.
When I registered for the race, it asked if I wanted a nickname printed on my bib. I deliberated on it for a couple minutes and then settled on "McPhie." It's what my sisters and I say to ourselves when we need to stoke that Scottish fire coursing through our veins: "You can do it, McPhie!" I have a feeling I'm going to be saying that a lot over the next two months while I train. You can do it, McPhie!