Isn't It Ironic?

One more day until our first meeting about the training and the race. When I walked into work today, one of my co-workers said, "You do know that when you walk into that meeting they're going to take one look at you and wonder why you're doing this and how you fit their criteria, don't you?"

I understand what she's saying. When I tell people how out of shape I am, one of their first reactions is to say, "You don't look like you're out of shape." At five-feet-four and 115 pounds, probably not. But "out of shape" isn't only a look.

For someone like me, it's about muscle tone and cardio-respiratory health. And as a woman, it's about bone health. In this case, being thin is somewhat of a disadvantage, because I don't have the added incentive of wanting or needing to lose weight to engage in regular physical activity or to eat a balanced diet. People tell me I'm lucky, and in some respects I am, but my being thin also hides my "sins" of omission.

In January of 1999, I became gravely ill with bacterial meningitis and came *this* close to dying. I spent eight days in the hospital and many weeks at home recuperating. It took about a year before I felt like I was back to normal. When I returned for a check-up with one of my infectious disease doctors (Dr. Mark Schomogyi in Ft. Wayne), he mentioned that he'd heard I was a runner and that was probably one reason I survived the meningitis. I looked over at my mom, who had taken me to my appointment, and we both burst out laughing.

Me. A runner. HA! I told him nothing could be further from the truth. I told him I firmly believe that the reason I survived was because of all the prayers that had been said on my behalf. He agreed.

So here I am, nine years later, about to embark on this running adventure. Self-fulfilling prophecy, perhaps? I'm not sure, but it is kind of ironic.