Sherri is running in the New York City Marathon tomorrow. Can you friggin' believe that? I mean, I can believe it of her, but as for myself, I cannot even fathom the physical motivation you have to posses to do something like that. I've run a mile a couple of times and hated every step: I can't imagine running 26.2 miles. I'm so proud of her.
I had a room-mate once who was very into physical fitness. In fact, she's currently an assistant physical fitness instructor at the Idaho Peace Officer's Standards and Training Center, aka, the police academy. Anyway, she talked me into running in the Race for the Cure one year. It was a 5k, which is three point something miles. It was awful. There I was, running about as fast as paint dries, when I hear this, "Thud, clank. Thud, clank. Thud, clank." It was behind me and getting closer, but I didn't want to lose my aerodynamic streamlining by turning my head parallel to my body. (Ha.) Soon, the sound was right next to me. I looked out of the corner of my eye, and there was a one-legged woman on crutches. And she passed me.
I'm not kidding you--that woman was fit. But still...that was when I decided to hang up my running shoes. Getting passed by an amputee is a good sign that you're not cut out for the sport.