Kickstart

Ninety days of hard-core training start on Monday. Long gone are the days of I-might-be-able-to-hit-the-gym-right-after-I-eat-this-delectable-package-of-HoHos-....-forget-the-gym-these-HoHos-are-awesome. My schedule will consist of healthy diet, long runs, lots of laps in a pool and countless hours on a bike. If I don't drown in said-pool (or die of embarrassment from the grotesque one-piece "sport swim suit"), my short-term goal is to finish the Las Vegas half marathon in December under 2 hours, 30 minutes. I have the gear, I have the ability (I'm pretty sure) and I have the desire. Oh and did I mention that I also have a birthday coming up?

I will be 36 three weeks from tomorrow. This is not a momentous milestone by any means to most people, but a long gone memory came to me about 9 months ago in a cold sweat panic; I recalled my first trip to Colorado many (many, many) moons ago. It was then that I fell in love with the Centennial state and ultimately decided my fate. The decade or two that passed between that first visit and my eventual move was dotted with bad habits and a body so disheveled it was barely recognizable. And so it was that I had long forgotten the promise I made to myself all those years ago.

But here I am, 4 years out from the deadline I set to scale a mountain in what has been described as "a treacherous series of switchbacks through a Martian-like rock-scape". Starting at an elevation of 6,295 feet runners climb up the side of the mountain for 13.32 miles to an elevation of 14,110 feet. And then back down again. This Pike's Peak marathon fills up all 800 spots in less than a day.

Can I do it? Well, I have a lot of work to do to prepare and relatively little time to do it. But I want to stand at the bottom of that mountain and tell my young, irresponsible, unsure and confused self from way back when just one thing: this life is not a dress rehearsal - make each day count! (I might also mention not to try the at-home hair highlights.) With that I will head to the medical tent to have the wounds sewn, the breaks splinted, pull the oxygen mask to my face and wheel myself to the nearest bar.