Today begins day one of my 125-day marathon training. It's a keep-your-cap-down and focus only on the steps right in front of you kind of day.

I went out for a run with my daughter yesterday and let myself down, as I couldn't take more than a five mile run. While she pushed saying I could do it, I had to stop, and essentially quit on my own child. She went on for another seven miles. If that doesn't hurt your spirit, nothing does. I looked down at my clock the moment I stopped. The dreaded 45 minute mark. It's such a breaking point for me. Why at 45 minutes, I don't know. On day one of this training, I still have no idea as to how I'll be able to run for over four hours let alone 45 minutes.

I decided that I was going to sign up for a full marathon, unknowingly, in the last mile of the 1/2 marathon I ran last year. You see, there is a point in the race where the full and 1/2 marathons runners split. The people running the full go one way and the 1/2 marathoners are yards from the finish. If you can imagine at this split people cheering, the build up, the emotion. It's all here. What was not comprehendible was the fact that the people continuing to run another 13.1 miles had to hear all of this excitement of "you're all most there", "only 500 more yards to go", "you'll get to rest in 30 secs", etc. At that moment I decided to sign up for the impossible.

I will never lessen the value of running and finishing a 1/2 marathon and the feeling I had that day, but I was instantaneously put into a moment of disbelief before I even finished. How in the world can you continue on after hearing all of that pomp and circumstance? To be honest, I still don't know. The word impossible has been in my mind, but I will let that word depart from my vocabulary today. Today impossible is an opinion. It's a dare.

So here I am on day one, not sure how this is going to go, can hardly hang onto a 45 minute run, but know that there is something inside all of us that is greater than any challenge.

I'll be taking one day at a time and staying thankful for the ability to even train. It could be turning 40, but I'm on a mission to feel life a little deeper this year. I hear that crossing the finish line of a marathon will change your life forever. Between family, friends, a running group, and some awesome work clients, I'm pretty sure I have one of the best support teams you can imagine.

In the next 18 weeks I'll also be compiling a list of 26.2 things that I am grateful for and plan to think of each one of them on their dedicated mile as my feet hit the pavement on November 18th. I'm saving the last 1.2 miles for myself. You don't get anywhere without respecting yourself first.