…Here it is, the Thursday before the San Antonio Rock and Roll Marathon, and I’ve finally made my peace with the fact that, at least in 2011, I’m a fitness fraud. Yes, like the Emperor and clothes, Milli Vanilli and singing, and Governor Perry and short term memory, I am an imposter. As much as I tried to psych myself up for training and then participating in the half marathon, in the end I just couldn’t do it. In years past, I eagerly looked forward to each training run, and challenged myself to increase the distance each time, adding two to three miles each week. I ran light and joyfully, grooving on the incredible beats of an artfully selected playlist designed to motivate me to run faster and faster. And, when the day arrived, I truly savored the marathon course that snaked through downtown San Antonio and the surrounding neighborhoods like Monte Vista and King Williams, appreciating the rich cultural tapestry that is our city, and the ageless beauty of some of our buildings and public squares. (In fact, it was the marathon and the way it showcases the city that helped convince Debbie and I to move downtown…)
Well, here in my 49th year, a year of huge transitions – both personally and professionally – it was not meant to be. Instead of running the half marathon, I’ll be going to the beach and spending a quiet weekend with family. I’ll be reading books from the Amazon lending library on the Kindle, and remaining at a low cardio ebb the whole time. As I’ve documented in this blog, I’ve had ample opportunities to train in the last month, and have avoided each and every one of them. I could get up early Sunday, lace up the sneakers, and try to make it happen, but in the end, I’d probably injure myself and be miserable during the holidays. Part of getting older is a deeper understanding of who you are, and at the moment, I’m not a guy who is going to run a marathon.
I tip my hat to those of you who have made the commitment to train for this incredible event. You will not be disappointed. I really wish I would be with you Sunday morning, running the streets and neighborhoods of the city that I love and call home.
But, there’s always next year.