retrospective - one year

One year ago today I stepped for the first time on a treadmill, fumbled with the buttons, and - flummoxed by the improbability of me being there - failed to make the thing work. Next day I tried again and ran my first mile.

In the meantime: I ran two 5Ks, not because I wanted to compete in a race, but because I thought it was cool to run on the 4th of July and for Thanksgiving. I ran two half-marathons, since the ability to run 13 miles did not seem to be enough in and of itself - I had to somehow make it official, mark my arrival at half-point.

I learned a lot about running, a given, since I knew nothing before and there is a lot to learn. I still feel like a novice. I still do not feel like a runner. I don't enjoy running yet, which puzzles me a bit. I thought it would be ...an acquired taste. Perhaps - at 940 miles life-to-date - I have not acquired enough.

I expected to have learned a lot about myself, but nothing comes to mind. I have a slight suspicion that I am being obtuse on this point. I cannot come up with one single shred of novel understanding of myself. Of course, I was determined, I was persistent, I was perseverent. But I knew this beforehand. I've always known this about myself - I have tenacity. Going in, that's the only thing I knew.

I still do not quite know why I want to run a marathon. When I started to run though, I started because I could not find an answer to 'why not.' The only possible response that came to mind was that running a marathon was too damn hard. Somehow I could not accept that as a reason not to run. So I ran.

Tomorrow we also celebrate eleven years since, in true refugee fashion, with a suitcase and no other place to go, I knocked at my boyfriend's door late at night. When he opened it, puzzled, I asked: "Eeer... can I stay here fow a little while?"

Not exactly in my line of character. But it was February, and cold. What's a girl to do?

And to quote Paris Parfait's entry from February 14, "we've been together ever since."