How Not To Train For A Half Marathon

So apparently, I’m going to be running a half marathon in a few days.

Not that I’m surprised by this, as I distinctly remember signing up for it way back in March.

It’s just that when I signed up – blinded by the folly of youth – I foolishly assumed that I’d actually be able to train for it. Little did I know, mainly because I never checked the Farmer’s Almanac long-range forecast, that this was going to be the Year Of The Never-Ending Winter. (Which is also providing fodder for the Year Of Blog Posts That Discuss Nothing But The Never-Ending Winter In Nauseating Detail.)

Needless to say, my training’s been a bit lacking. It’s consisted mainly of the following:

• Shaking my fist out of the window as the snow pours from the sky.
• Thinking about running on a treadmill since I can’t go outside, even though running on a treadmill is quite possibly one of the worst things ever, ranking slightly below multiple fillings at the dentist.
• Deciding to just bag the whole thing.
• Desert. Possibly two of them.

I’m not going to use the weather as an excuse for my poor training, as that would be the coward’s way out. If I really wanted to, I could have braved the elements and trained correctly. However, when given the choice between napping on the couch or going outside in a blizzard to run then and slipping on a patch of ice on the sidewalk and breaking my hip, it turns out that I pick the couch every time.

While I initially planned on using one of those standard half marathon training schedules you can find online, I instead ending up using the standard “Wait – That’s Next Week!?” schedule, which consists mainly of blind panic and running around like a chicken with its head cut off. (For the record, this schedule is mainly used by males in preparation for such events as their wedding, their significant other’s birthday, their anniversary, and Christmas.)

With the help of this schedule, I’ve managed to salvage my training to the point where I now know that I’ll be able to finish. However, that’s all I can be sure of. Every thing else is up on the air. I strongly suspect that when I cross the finish line, it won’t be the confident, dignified finish you might see in promotional literature for the race. Instead, I’m expecting a hunched over, hands scraping the ground, eye-bulging, chest-heaving, green-in-the-face sort of finish.

Luckily, everybody else has also been handicapped by the same lack of ideal training conditions, and I’m expecting a lot of similar finishes by those running with me. Hopefully, I’ll just blend in, and nobody will notice what’s bound to be a complete train wreak of a showing by me.

Still, I’m not one to take unnecessary chances if I can get a little insurance. With that in mind, I just need to find somewhere that sells those combination-fake-moustache-and-nose disguises…