Hello! My name is Sara, and it is with a healthy mix of optimism and terror that I announce officially: I am training for my first marathon.
A disclosure, before I get too deep into an introduction: I work for Vermont Public Radio, but the opinions I’ll share here are mine alone.
What I know about marathons, I know from observation. I know about pasta dinners and foil capes and swollen toenails, or lack thereof. I know of Lazarus Lake and the Barkley Marathons. I know the story of Kathrine Switzer. As a Wellesley alum, some of my best college memories involve lipstick, sweat, and those fine Boston runners.
I made a haphazard decision to run. A few months ago, in early October, I was sitting at a bar in Winooski with a colleague. She’s a serious runner. By that, I mean she ran a marathon in Antarctica. Somehow the topic came up, and she encouraged me to train for a marathon. I asked if she was serious and forced myself to admit to her that I couldn’t run even a mile. She reminded me that the Vermont City Marathon wasn’t for months and that there would be plenty of time to train. I looked at her. With a pang of adventure I couldn’t dare let fleet, I agreed, and then I registered for the race before having an opportunity to talk myself out of it.