Trying to be the Hare

For as long as I can remember, my dad has been a runner and a sports enthusiast. He used to be right there on the sidelines next to my soccer coaches hollering about how I should do this or do that. While I always dreaded "The Talk" that inevitably came after any game, he was always honest with me and didn't sugar coat a thing. So part of the reason I signed up for the Chicago Half Marathon is because I am inherently an athlete at heart. The other motivation is that I hope to one day run in my father's footsteps across the finish line of a full marathon.

This is no easy feat for me and I would argue it's not easy for anyone (with the exception of triathloners and Olympic runners.) The hardest part is getting over a bad run, you know those where you were slow, achy, huffy and puffy and just a mess of a runner. Those are the worst and they come out of nowhere. You'll have a great run, where you were the hare instead of the turtle, and then the next run you will be slower than the turtle. And I must admit, I've let these runs get the best of me, letting many days slip by in between jaunts. But with a looming goal at the end of the track, I'm forced to get back out there again. And my new motivation during these bad runs will be imagining my father next to the sidelines, his face red and his voice booming as he points toward the goal! Daughter.