So the gods are giving me mixed signals about running the marathon. This morning a pair of tight fitting pants finally gave way at work, popping the top button off and freeing my ever growing mid-section (I’m not a large guy, but three extra inches on the waist is still three extra inches on the waist). If that’s not a sign to start getting in shape, I don’t know what is.
Then again, as I was getting ready for my first training run, I heard a commercial for an upcoming episode of CTV News – Can Running A Marathon Kill You? Apparently, a 41-year-old man dropped dead after finishing the Toronto Marathon, the third time a person has died running Toronto in the last three years. It’s a sobering thought, but I could also die sitting at my desk at work or walking across the street. Plus, if I listened to every scary story on the news these days I would never leave my apartment.
My first run was pretty uneventful. I left my apartment around 8:30PM, slowly jogging past The Armories before turning up Cunard Street. It was cold out and I was only wearing a light long sleeve and a pair of shorts, but I figured that I would warm up and promptly pushed the nippy, negative thoughts out of my mind. Can’t be getting down this early in my training.
Luckily, I didn’t feel too shabby. My ankles were a little tight-a couple of sprains will do that-and I could definitely feel my waistband sinking into my soft stomach, but my form wasn’t horrible and I had a little pickup in my step (always important when trying to spring across four lanes of traffic on a yellow light). Sure, running up Jubilee from Connaught Avenue was a bit of a chore, but at least I didn’t need to stop.
A little over half and hour later, I was home. Based on my slow pace, I would guess I ran six kilometers, give or take a few meters. I’ll have to run a measured course at some point to get an accurate assessment of my fitness level, but for now I’ll settle for instinct. I hope I am not overestimating my ability.
It’s probably too early to estimate anything. I ran a mere six kilometers, or one seventh of a marathon. I’ve got a long way to go, and little time.