Well, it’s official: I’ve become obsessed with the marathon. You know those people who are totally normal, well-rounded conversationalists until they go and have a child or buy a cat and suddenly the only things they can talk about are diapers and catnip? I am that girl. But I don’t talk endlessly about something as beautiful and momentous as bringing another human being into this world. No, I just want to talk about putting one foot in front of the other over and over again for miles and miles and miles.
Case in point: Last weekend, we had a bit of snow. My roommate and I were… less than prepared. On Friday night around 6:00 pm we started to accept the fact that this was a legitimate blizzard. We began to panic:
Roommate: It’s illegal to drive?!Me: Do you think they will plow the path along the Charles by tomorrow?
Roommate: What if the power goes out??
Me: Will the gym be open??
Roommate: That was our last bottle of wine!!
Me: How many laps around the living room do you think 16 miles is?
I’m a monster.
But, the truth is, I don’t care. I don’t have children and I’m not a fan of cats. Everyone has their thing and running is mine. So go ahead and show me 85,000 pictures of your cat playing with a toy mouse. Just be prepared to listen to a detailed account of each precious mile of my most recent run. Unless we are facing a natural disaster in which case I’ll try really hard to reel it in and focus on survival.