Run, Megan! Run! (a marathon...?)

I am a dreadful runner. My lungs burn, my muscles tire, blah blah blah, I'm just bad at it. I feel like this:

But I have a goal! I want to run a marathon. So to be able to accomplish this and possibly turn into this...

...I have devised myself a plan.

1. I have 2 years to accomplish this goal.

I figured that I probably should, you know, be able to run before running the ultimate race. After doing a little research, it is recommended to be running for at least a year before running a marathon. I must have been inspired.

2. I have a training schedule.

Thanks to Hal Higdon, he's kind of done this for me. If there were five levels below "novice," that would be me. Therefore, I am starting with what is called his "Spring Training" program. Once I can tackle this effectively, I'll move onto the actual marathon training. Along the way I will also participate in other runs like 5Ks and half-marathons. Don't worry. I'll keep you posted and provide proof.

3. I have a nutrition plan.

I figure it will be easier to run if I don't have to haul around as much weight. Also, good food is good fuel and good fuel will help me be a better runner. Plus, who wouldn't mind losing a few extra pounds? (That would be me - I wouldn't mind.)

4. I am being held accountable.

I have a fitness journal I am keeping, but I am also telling people with the hope that every so often someone will say, "Hey, how's that marathon training coming?" or maybe a more accurate query of, "Have you learned to run yet?"

So there it is. Megan is going to run.

Yes, I'm Totally Venting

Ahhhhhh! Sometimes I love my job but at this moment I am a-hatin'. :( Grrrr...

I have the express pleasure of being a property manager and live on-site. But when my office is closed, MY OFFICE IS CLOSED, PEOPLE!! The doorbell is ridiculously loud and incredibly annoying, and anytime it rings I secretly hope it's a friend popping by to visit. But alas. It is not. Instead, I get people who can't use common sense. DING! DING! Inside my head: I don't care that you accepted a package from UPS and it wasn't for you. That's your fault, and it's after hours. My actual response: "Mr. So-and-so, it's after hours. This needs to wait to till tomorrow [because I work on Saturdays] during business hours. [insert him not understanding because he says he's Russian] Okay. [I take the package] Thank you. Good-bye." DING! DING! DINNNNNNG! DINGDINGDINGDINGDING! (Yeah, this one was super classy.) Inside my head: If somebody's been parking in your covered parking space for the last few nights, you should have left me a message or - I don't know - talked to me DURING BUSINESS HOURS. Not wake me up when I have a crazy-early morning tomorrow to complain about it. Leave a note on the car. Shoot, let out the air in their tires. Okay, maybe not the tire bit. My actual response: "You can't wake me up because your parking stall is taken. You could have talked to me during business hours or left me a message because it's been happening recently. [insert him giving me about 6 different and rather lame excuses - I pick up the phone...] Hello, tow company?" And proceed to get somebody towed. 5 minutes later... DINNNNNG! It's the tow company so I can kind of forgive that because I called them. Back to bed. DING! DINNNNG! Oh, bed was a joke. I see. Ugh. Get myself out of bed. DINNNNNG! Inside my head: Ahhhhh! Are you kidding me? A little patience. You're disrupting my sleep/life. You're locked out? Well then you shouldn't have left your key in your trucker boyfriend's car (they're in their 50's mind you). He doesn't even live with you! AND it clearly says in your contract that outside of business hours I don't have to let you in. So ha! My actual response: "If I go down to your building to let you in, I will have to post a $50 charge which you'll be responsible for. Do you want me to do that? Or you could call a locksmith. Would you like to use my phone? [I'm using a nice reasonable voice by the way, not the nasty you-dirty-rat voice that is going on simultaneously in my head] You can call your boyfriend. [she informs me he's on the road and can't call him but for no apparent reason - no, I didn't ask how she got home without her key if he dropped her off... - and she can't afford the $50 or a locksmith because she's on a fixed income, so she'll just sit outside of her apartment because she has a chair (whaaa?) for the next few days until her boyfriend comes back] Okay. Sorry. Have a good night, undisclosed name." Then I felt bad so I went down to her apartment to let her in - tow truck heaving up the naughty car in the background. Good times.