She of Little Faith

As you are all painfully aware, my blogging entries have been sparse as of late. There are a number of reasons for the lack of blogging, none of which are exciting or interesting in the least...except for the bit about having my hands chopped off in a third world prison after being accused of stealing a pastry...which did not happen, but that is the type of exciting/interesting thing I am talking about.

My lack of blogging has nothing to do with a lack of running excitement over the past few weeks. There have been trials, and yes, tribulations. And there have been miles...many, many miles. What there has not been is a lot of free time, which translates in to not a lot of blog entries.

This past Thursday a big project I have been working on finally closed. With that closing came a narrow window of freedom which I promptly started to crack open. My new (re)found flexibiilty caused me to realize what a sorry job I have been doing on this "web log", as it were. To be clear, I have taken more than a little heat from KC and MK about my lack of dedication to this site (for those of you who have missed it, KC's blog is what my blog wants to be when it grows up...and can be found here...www.kristijustpassedyou.blogspot.com).

My moment of clarity, combined with several weeks of disparaging remarks, somehow culminated in a post-22 mile run, Saturday morning declaration wherein I committed to updating this page with "meaningful content" and not just "I ran ___ miles"-posts (as KC puts it) at least 5 times a week from now until the marathon.

The reaction that followed my proclamation was a mixed bag of hilarity and dumbfoundedness. As a point of comparison, when I declared my decision to run a marathon, the responses ranged from "That is wonderful, you can do it!" to the more common "Wait a moment while I repress the tears that your inspirational act as caused me to shed...Tim, you are my hero." Saturday's reaction was more akin to "Whoa there Tim, let's not aim too high" or "Ha, mwah ha, hold...ha!...on...hee, hee, hee, can't catch breath...that's absurd." I was taken aback.

How was it possible that my closest friends could have so little faith in my commitment to blogging? As I pointed out to MK, I type all day everyday, all I have to do is redirect that typing energy. Running a marathon actually requires me to partake in an activity in which I was not at all inclined to partake willingly or for any extended period of time. Yet, to my friends, a completed marathon seems infinitely more likely to occur than a 5-substantive-blog-entry week.

I have spent a lot of time, and made a lot of jokes, about their lack of faith in my blogging stick-to-it-ive-ness. Feigned hurt feelings at their (totally justified) scepticism. And spent some serious time planning some standby topics, just in case I hit a writers/runners wall. But in the end, I am still a little confused as to why my commitment to this running diary engenders so little trust as compared to my running endeavors themselves, which seems far more absurd a goal if you have known me for any period of time. And I think I know why.

Blogging is a singular, isolated activity. Unless you leave a comment (Ginny) I have no way of knowing that you have even seen these words. There are no spectators on the sidelines, no sign waving in the crowd. I have followers (shout out!), but none of them are showing up in my office to tell me "you can do it...blog the hell out of that entry!"

Running is also a singular, isolated activity...for many people. But not for me. When I think about my marathon training, I don't think about the hours on end I have spent running alone in the dark. I think about meeting my best friend at our designated port-a-potty at 5:15 on Saturday morning, every Saturday morning, and getting to spend the next several hours catching up on the meaningless and the meaningful. I don't think about my early mornings stumbling over my shoes as I prepare for the drudgery. I think about the mornings when I've been stumbling my way slowly up the Sperry loop, ready to give up, and a tiny hand belonging to an impossibly cute blond has caught me on the small of my back and told me I could do it. One pat on the back from someone you adore...that's all it takes to make it to the end.

Of course I can run a marathon. With friends like mine, how could I not run a marathon.

Oh, and girls, one down.

Timmy