One of my favorite things to do is talk to people.
OK, wait. I take that back. That's a complete lie. I actually don't like talking to (strangers) people at all. Only if they're inspiring. But I am so easily inspired.
I've taken quite a liking to talking to other runners. People who've trained, people who've raced, people who have achieved things I have, or things I wish I could achieve. One woman I know is a 22-time Ironman competitor. TWENTY-TWO TIMES. That is unimaginable.
My favorites are the people who've run the Chicago Marathon. I feel we have this bond. Like, "So, you saw all the men whipping it out and peeing beneath the overpass at mile two, too?" Running that marathon, still, as I've mentioned probably 84 times, is my all-time greatest accomplishment to date, so anyone else who's been there, done that, well, we might as well be best friends. (Except, don't tell anyone, but I wasn't that great at it. And actually, it kind of hurt and I swore I'd never do it again, but whatever. Details.)
So, anyway, there's that. Talking to other runners, and learning about other peoples' experiences is inspiring. Makes me want to run. At least a mile. Perhaps on a treadmill.
But then there are Other People. People who drop life and bike 19,000 miles from the northern most point of North America to the southern most point of South America. Or a friend, or two, who is writing a novel. It makes me wish two things: A) that I could quit my job (and ride my bike for nearly a year, of course. Cough.) and B) write a novel. Makes this blog feel rather petty.
And then there are the health nuts. The kind of people I've never had the discipline to become. Me? Pass up Taco Bell? Doubtful. Eat salad for lunch? Barf. Not have one swallow of Cherry Coke in 52 days, so help me God? Help. Yet I've done these things. It's rather shocking, actually. I have yet to discover where this inspiration has stemmed from, but I'm sure I'll be glad when I fit into my wedding dress and look smoking. Dang. (I'm mildly kidding).
And, there is totally a point to this endless rambling somewhere. An old college pal has chosen to give up sweets for Lent. Last year, if you remember, I attempted to give up dessert, and failed in about 14 minutes. But I think I just might try it again. No sweets for 40 days.
No candy. No Nerds! (I love Nerds more than flushable toilets). No donuts. Brownies. Cake. Mint chocolate chip ice cream. Oh my God, this is starting to sound absolutely awful. But whatever. That is my plan, and I'm sticking to it.
And by "sticking to it," I mean, "giving a really good attempt, but I can't make any promises because, Me? I am a sucker."