The start gun just fired.

I cannot ensure that this will be thrilling, or even supremely interesting; but I can promise that it will be honest. 

Allow me to introduce myself.  I am Liz, 24 year old college graduate living in a normal city, USA.  I work as a manager for a reputable restaurant corporation.  I have moved around a lot, growing up in the Southwestern United States, and have lived in a few cities on the East Coast.  Now settled, I am, what my best friend likes to call it... "in transition."  No longer interested in staying up until 4am and drinking beer, or spending days sitting on the couch eating Doritos and watching Family Guy.  I certainly pass no judgement on those people, and nor to I judge myself for at one point being one of those people.  I merely state that I have grown tired of that scene, and seem to be evolving into an adult.

Scary words.  Adult.

So here I am.  My Dad taught me to run at a young age, buying me the right shoes, and teaching me about breathing and impact and everything else I didnt really care to pay attention to when I was 13.  So I went out and joined the cross-country team, ran hard for a year, and got injured.  I swore I was just "not built to be a runner."  Anyone in my family knows that we Polish ladies aren't exactly petite.  So there I was.  Highschool ended, college began, and dining hall food and the college lifestyle aren't kind to anyone.  It's easy to get caught up in the world you live in and forget that you only live once, and it's all too easy to waste time.  A lot of time.

So now, ten years after my first stint as a cross-country runner; three years after graduating college and swearing that, now that I "had the time," I was going to start running again.  It took a push from my best friends to make me really start.  It's been three months that I've been running.  When I first went out, I got about a mile out and was sweating, out of breath, and exhausted.  On top of that, some extraordinarily attractive gentleman ran by me right as I stopped to walk at the 1 mile marker.  Not where I wanted to be.  In life, or on that particular running trail.  I can proudly say that this morning I woke up and ran 4.5 miles, relatively easily and that I am running an 8k race tomorrow morning, the first race I've participated in since Freshman year of high school. 

I am also training for a marathon.  A marathon which, when it was 8 months away seemed like I had a lot of time to prepare for; and now that it is a mere 5 months away seems like it's coming upon me like a freight train full of physical stamina that I don't yet possess.  But, with the help of a best friend who will be right by my side, I am determined 100 percent to confront that freight train head on. 

So there you have it.  A blog to document my personal physical and psychological journey towards becoming "a runner."  I'm sure there will also be snippets of commentary on my generation, music, movies, life, work, love, and cheesecake.