A little persective never hurt

I've been in Myrtle Beach with my family--and I mean my husband, my kids, his sister, her husband, their kids, his mom, his dad, his aunt, his uncle, their kids, and their friend. Historically these vacations have been a free for all food wise. We consume copious amounts of Oreos, chips, and other food while sitting under the umbrella resting and refueling from swimming, boogie boarding, sand sculpting, shell hunting, etc. Then at night we repeat the mass consumption--often finishing off with Hagen Daz and pie.

This year I gave some thought about going about things differently but failed to plan. So, I fell back into the typical routine. Mid-way through the trip I felt myself (particularly my hips and belly) growing. I swear, it became harder to flip over in bed at night because of the extra girth. I decided I felt much better with my fruits and veggies and started to crave them. So I started to tailor my behavior and sometimes reached for the right foods. I got about sixteen miles under my belt over the ten days (over four outings). Not great--but better than last year.

I started to think about whether or not I should bail on the Chicago Marathon. My ankles/tendons screamed for mercy. My miles were difficult (drinking and binging on food tends to make me a slow, lumbering beast). A few things happened that made me decide to soldier through. Most were insignificant:

• I saw how I really looked in photos taken this trip. I didn't say "oh, it's just the angle." I didn't delete them. I decided they are a historical of record of what I looked like at a certain day and time. And omg, they are AWFUL. Maybe I'll post some later. I'm definitely heavier than last year this time.
  
• I saw a few photos from thirteen years ago when I first started going on these yearly beach outings. I was *thin* and I distinctly recall thinking then that I should be thinner. I was envious of what I saw--I would be over the moon to look that way again. I had awesome, cut arms, well-muscled legs, and a happy, relaxed expression on my face. I realize it's thirteen years, one strained marriage, and two kids later. But still, I am so far removed from that girl, if you put the younger, thinner version of me next to the present me, you wouldn't be able to recognize that they are the same person.
  
• My brother-in-law (who is SO now on my shit list) made a crack about "Look, there's another beached whale" when I rode a wave in on a float and breached myself on the beach at my daughter's feet. Granted, there was a inflatable whale just down from me, but the guy clearly had no sense of survival. He did crack his shin on the trailer hitch of the pickup when we were packing up--Karma's one great bitch--and I love her for it.

A few "heavier" things happened:

• My Father-in-Law made a comment that he was not feeling so well--I *think* implying that he may be pretty sick. It makes me worry for him and for the time my kids have left with him.
• A friend (and former neighbor) lost his battle for survival. He became paralyzed several years ago and recently became sick with pneumonia and a lung infection. The doctors kept telling the family he would pass within the next few hours and he would rally for days much to their amazement. He went into hospice, then to a nursing home. He passed within a few days of his latest move. I am so sad for the loss and for his family.

All these things made me realize I need to keep training despite how I feel. I can do this and NEED to do this. Life is for the living...and to finish the marathon would mean so much to me (even if I am one of the few lumbering beasts on the course).