A funny thing happened on the way to Webster Street

I've always hated running. Unless it was part of a baseball game or a basketball game when I was younger, I've never been much of a runner.

It's not like I'm in bad shape or anything. For the past few years, I could get out and run three miles without too much trouble. I always felt like that was a good amount, a solid distance for a "non-runner."

Two years ago, Anne ran a half-marathon. She tried for a while to get me to run it with her. Hey, I'd say, I'm not a runner. I'll go sit at the finish line and watch. And I did. She (and two of her friends) successfully ran a half-marathon.

I watched her train, and every weekend a progressively longer long run -- up to 10 miles the weekend before the race. Just the thought of running that much -- blegh. I'd rather kick myself in the stomach than run that much.

Then last year, Anne ran a FULL marathon. 26.2 miles. Yikes. She did it though. Months of training, and she finished on race day.

Now it's this year, and she's going to do the Raleigh half-marathon. So I was thinking about it. She did a full marathon. Surely, I can get my increasingly fatter ass up and train for a half-marathon right? And then I will keep myself from, well, getting increasingly fatter.

And I have been. Training began on August 10. Four days of running, two days of strength training and rest. What I've found is this is different than just waking up in the morning and running. I'm competing against myself now.

I played sports growing up, and if you talk to me for, oh, a few seconds, you'd know I'm a pretty competitive person. Now there's a goal. I get up in the morning and try to run three miles because I have to run four on Sunday. Then I get up and run three and a half because I have to run five miles on Sunday.

I actually look forward to running now, to pushing myself and trying to surpass what I'd been capable of before.

This past Sunday, I ran five miles straight without stopping. Well, OK, I had to stop for crosswalks since I live in a city now. But I didn't walk any of the five-mile distance. I'd never done that before, and completing the five-mile run showed me that, you know what, I really CAN do this.

I mean, I knew I could do it before, but just in that, "hey you can do anything you put your mind to!" way. Now, I actually can do it, because I've done a third of the distance. This is the end of week four of training, which will culminate with another five-mile run on Sunday. Then six miles, then a 5K, then seven miles, eight miles, a 10K, nine miles, 10 miles and race day.

The thought doesn't seem so daunting anymore, and I'm excited to do it. So there you go. I'm not sure I can call myself a "non-runner" anymore. I'm training for a half-marathon.

Who knew?