Eighteen months ago, I started running.  And by running, I mean walking fast.  Ish.  Twelve months ago, my friend Allie mentioned something called the Bourbon Chase – a 200-mile relay race through the bourbon distilleries in Kentucky.  And it was this weekend.

Our team was slated to be among the slowest; I’m sure my projected pace of 12:30/mile didn’t help much.  Even though this was a team event (12 of us in two vans), this was really about me.  It was about doing what I never thought I could do.  It was about permanently shedding the old me.  It was about pounding the pavement for 16 miles over 24 hours.  It was about doing what I never thought I would do.

Yes, it was intimidating.  Terrifying.  Particularly because it involved a 6-mile run in the middle of the night.  I hit the first run full of trepidation, hoping not to get lost.  Miraculously, I didn’t.  In fact, somewhere, on a dark country road in full night running gear, I found myself.  I got lost in my breathing and took in the expansive sky above me – it went on infinitely.  And, even though I felt so insignificant and got passed thirty times, I felt so powerful.  So alive.

Even though I wasn’t the fastest person out there, I was the fastest me.  I was doing things I never thought I could do.  And now I want to do them better.  It was the inspiration I needed to get myself back in gear.  So, here I go.  Publicly declaring it.  I will lose another forty pounds.  I will run a half marathon in November and one in January.  And.  I.  Will.  Run.  A.  Marathon.