Progress is a cool thing.

I think we all have a tendency, sometimes, to forget what things were like at the beginning of a pursuit.  If you don't remember the beginning, it's hard to see how far you've come.

I blindly started marathon training for the first time on July 7, 2009.  I'd been doing 3-mile walks several times a week as an informal fitness program for several months already, so the beginning 3-4 mile distances didn't feel hard at all.  But without a program to follow we usually walked at about 20 minutes/mile.  So I started to push my speed and walk ahead of Kourt when we hit the trail, knowing I needed to work on my speed.  We were looking at doing the Rock and Roll Marathon in New Orleans at that point, which I believe has a 7 1/2 hour time limit.  I didn't want to be the loser who has to finish the marathon route on the sidewalk and cross a non-existent finish line while dodging cars and pedestrians.  I needed to put in a LOT of work.  Seriously, I was very worried about whether or not I could even make myself walk fast enough to cross the finish line while it was still there to cross.  Frankly, I had no idea what I was doing at that point.  But not knowing what I'm doing has never stopped me before, so off I went, armed with nothing but a new pair of shoes and a little chart outlining 6 months of training walks.

On one of my first walks I took the last mile as fast as my short, chubby legs would carry me, just to see how fast I could actually be if I gave it 110%.  My hips didn't know what hit them.  I felt like I was *this close* to having to run.  And when I finally got to the three mile mark and slowed down for my dripping, panting, noodly-legged cooldown, my stopwatch said I'd done the mile in 16:04.  I did the math in my head and realized that to finish the New Orleans marathon in around 7 hours I'd have to walk the whole thing that fast, and nearly threw in the towel right then.  How was I ever going to do that?  That was a sprint for me!  And I only had seven months to get faster!

But I didn't throw in the towel.  I kept walking if for no other reason than my excitement over how the numbers on my bathroom scale were responding to all this mileage.

Just 20 days after I started, I did my first 6 mile walk.  It was hotter than I expected outside, and I underestimated my need for water -- rookie mistakes, right?  After dragging my exhausted ass (and sadly empty water bottle) to the end of the walk I summoned the energy to drag myself up a hill to a little water fountain only to find that it wasn't even turned on.  I managed to drive myself to the nearest convenience store and pour Gatorade and chocolate milk into myself before I gave up the will to live.  I couldn't believe how hard that walk was.  I was almost too sore to get out of my car when I got home, and it was worse the next day.  I had a few (or lots of) moments where I doubted my ability to make it through. I couldn't imagine pushing myself through another 6-miler, let alone all those double-digit distances taunting me on my little training plan chart.

But still, I kept at it.  I took my rest days and did my stretches and hit the trail with fresh legs that next week... and found that all of a sudden my shorter walks were easier and faster.  I'd get to the end and double-take at my stopwatch, sure I must have accidentally paused the timer without realizing it.  And a couple of weeks later when I took on another 6-mile walk I breezed through it like it was three.  And from then on, no matter how sore and exhausted and completely whipped I felt after taking on a new distance challenge, I never doubted that the second time around would be easier. 

I sometimes have to remind myself how completely awful that first 6-mile walk was and how quickly it got easier.  I see 6 miles these days like I saw 2 miles back then: no sweat.  And 16:04?  Not anywhere close to a challenge.  Yeah, my speed still needs some improvement.  Scratch that.  Significant improvement.  My goal pace for the marathon is 13:45 (okay, runners, no laughing!) which means I still need to shave over a minute off my average mile time.  But it's improving with each workout and it's likely that by the time I go to Chicago I'll be able to look back at this point in my training and laugh at what I now find extremely challenging. 

And maybe, just maybe, someday I'll run across the finish line at some future marathon and be able to laugh about the days when I didn't think I'd ever be able to run even an whole mile without stopping.

But that's just getting ahead of myself.