will run 26.2 miles for pancakes.

i was innocently playing solitaire on my phone while lying in bed when i received a text from my friend, Diane. It was 8:19am on Friday, 14 Oct 2016. A day that will live in infamy.

Paraphrasing:
Diane: next year, the Chicago Marathon and i both turn 40. you wanna run it with me?
Me: Yes.

maybe it was because i was half-awake. maybe because i had had a long day with no caffeine. or maybe she just tapped into my deep love/hate relationship with running and my need to constantly prove myself. regardless, i said yes.

diane and i have had a fairly long organized running career together. i don't remember our first run together, possibly the Shamrock Shuffle, but we've done several organized runs in the past 7 years. we do it for the swag and the pancakes afterwards. always breakfast afterwards. personally, i get french toast, but pancakes (which diane always gets) has a better ring to it. we even got t-shirts made that say "Will Run for Pancakes." they're awesome.

i have been a "runner" since i was 13, wanting to prove that i was just as cool as those thinner kids, and also to be able to hang out more with the boy i had a crush on (i can think of worse hobbies to get involved with because of a member of the opposite sex). i don't think Diane was too much of a runner before we started doing the fun runs. the longest we've both done is 10k. we're both not much runners now, to be honest. but i keep signing up for ridiculous races and regretting it. i figure, why break that trend now.

we will be doing this for charity, so we can get automatic entrance into the marathon. so be forewarned: we WILL be begging you for money. but in the meantime, we will be blogging our struggles to get off the couch and slap some pavement with over-priced running shoes. here is our (initial) plan of attack on training (from Diane):

Register. Regret Registering. Pray. Get to the start line. Hope for the best. Throw ourselves around the course. Finish. Cry. Barf. Pass out. Get a massage

i can't believe she forgot the most important part: eat pancakes.