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I’m Running The Marathon And I’m Not Afraid To Admit It

You may have heard some of the rumors that have been floating around these past few months. Well, allow me to set the record straight: I’m running the Boston Marathon this year, and I’m not afraid to admit it. There, I said it. I know you must be shocked, appalled, perhaps even sick to your stomach. But before your judge me, hear me out. Because as you know, there’s always a story. This is mine.

I’ll be honest, I haven’t always known that I was a marathoner. Growing up, I liked to run, but I always kept that part of my life strictly to myself. Eventually I started watching marathon runners on TV and in videos online, but I just never believed that I had the inner strength to lace up my sneakers and join their ranks publicly.

But I grew older, and as time went on I began to see everyday marathoners all around me. The Honda Pilot stopped at the red-light in front of me had “26.2” stamped on its back windshield, the man who ran aggressively fast on the treadmill at the gym had “Chicago Marathon” plastered across every shirt he owned. I knew the time would come when I too would have to muster up the courage to embrace who I am, the marathon runner that I’ve always been.

Now, some of you must be thinking, but it’s an individual event, couldn’t you just run a marathon and not tell anyone? This train of thought may lead some people to believe that I could just get up every morning for 4 months and train by myself, that my efforts could be fueled solely by a deep desire for personal achievement.

Let me tell you, this is so far from the truth.

It’s not just about me running a marathon; people have to know! To my Snapchat friends, my Instagram followers, to that one kid from high school whose “humble brag” on Facebook just happens to mention his perfect relationship and internship and sportsmanship, well BITCH! I’m running a marathon! What do you think about that, Todd?

Now is my time and I won’t be silenced. Not by you, not by the Boston Athletic Association, and certainly not by Todd. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go pick up the massive cardboard cutouts of my own face that I’m going to force my roommates to hold up at Mile 21.

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