This is why I run

Whenever I head out the door for a run, my three-year-old, Gracie, asks me "Where are you going?"

"I'm going for a run," I reply.

"But why?" she asks, clearly thinking that I'm crazy for giving up time better spent finger-painting or playing with her Fisher-Price sets.

I hem and haw, because this question always gives me pause. Why do I want to run out in the cold and rain, and run for quite a few miles, at that?

The short answer is that I need to train for the Chicago Marathon, the first marathon I'll ever run. You don't just get ready to run 26.2 miles overnight, you know.

The long answer is that I'm a life-long runner, and running a marathon is a natural progression of the races in high school and college, and the casual running over the weekends. I'm not out to prove anything to anyone (except, maybe, myself). I'm not one-upping anyone. To be honest, there are days when I lace up my running shoes and think "Will I even do this run, all of five miles? And why the hell did I think I could run a marathon?"  So, self-doubt, low self-esteem, etc.

I run because I want to, and because I can. Because this is more than just a lofty goal of things I'd like to accomplish before I turn 40 (and as I just turne 30, I have to get crackin'). Training for the marathon is about discipline, about dedication, and about sacrifice. It's about being unsure of yourself, but going for the run, anyway, because why not? I've already sunk money into the registration fee; I may as well get my money's worth for it.