I AM A MARATHONER

… or at least, I will be.

Even though just today I barely dragged my feeble bones through a 6.7-mile jog, my marathon training book tells me that I have to start announcing to everyone I meet that

I AM A MARATHONER.

It’s part of the psychology of training for your first. The theory is a mind/body one. Physically, you train for a minimum of four months, increasing your mileage 10% each week to achieve greater and greater distances. Since marathoning is just as much a psychological pursuit as a physical one, your mind must be conditioned just as systematically. Among other mental strengthening activities, you start broadcasting that you’re a marathoner. That way, you’ll train your mind to accept that you can and will be able to run 26.2 miles.

Yeah, right.

Despite this mean little nagging inner voice of negativity that scoffs at my pronouncements, I’m trying it out. I’m trying to truly believe that “if you ACT as if you are confident and optimistic, you will begin to FEEL confident and optimistic.” The selling point to this rather Pollyanna outlook is that optimism is “a lot more fun than feeling pessimistic and unsure of oneself.”

Hard to argue with that.

I bought this book, The Non-Runner’s Marathon Trainer, not long after turning 40. Perhaps crazily, I announced in December of that landmark year that I would run a marathon before I was 50.

At the time, I could barely jog 2 miles at a pace that bored my dog. Still, in the wild optimism of my youth (I was, after all, only 40 then) I thought I was making it easy on myself. Ten years to prepare? Piece of cake. There must have been some part of me, though, that knew this would be a significant undertaking. As soon as I staked my claim, I began to train in earnest.

It turns out it’s a good thing I’m giving myself till I’m 50. I’ve begun the training every autumn since buying the book and have yet to run a marathon. Not that I’ve been slacking. I’ve completed two half-marathons, a 25-kilometer trail run, and entered half a dozen 5K's and 10K's. I've even won a couple of medals, in those ego-boosting events where there's hardly any competition. (I'm like a KENYAN when there's only a handful in my age group!)

But it turns out that long-distance running is hard on the body, and I’ve had injuries to parts I didn’t even know existed. These iliotibial band syndromes and the like have prevented me from getting past the 15-mile mark.

(Have you heard that line "Growing old is not for sissies"? It's starting to mean something to me.)

I’m older (42 now) and wiser. I’m not just running; I’m “conditioning.” That means in addition to running 4 times a week, I’m strength training and doing Pilates. I’m S-T-R-E-T-C-H-I-N-G. I mean, daily, the way old people do. (I pretty much don’t get out of a chair without stretching first, to be honest.)

And a few days ago, flipping through Paul’s latest issue of Runner’s World magazine, we found a Mardi Gras marathon in a small town in Georgia being held on March 7, 2009. It’s sponsored by Snickers. A chocolate candy bar. Could there be a better marathon for two novices? I mean, maybe if Krispy Kreme sponsored a marathon …

We registered the same day.

So I'm conditioning. I'm training. I'm embracing the mind/body/spirit.

All that and the possibility of Snickers candy bars at every aid station.

I. AM. A MARATHONER.