All things Irish

My ex-husband was Irish.

Well, I suppose he still is.

Anyway, with St. Patrick's Day over the weekend, it gave me a wee opportunity to reflect (again?) on the past and where I am and why it's good.

This new me - Maggie 2.0 - is really who I am now. The me who was married to him was so long ago, she barely registers. Divorce was the price I paid to gain a life.

And so, surrounded by images of Guinness and shamrocks and pots o'gold, I gave a grateful thought to that guy. Grateful, you ask?

Yep. I'm grateful to that idiot for moving on to wife No. 3, and allowing me to grow into authentic Maggie. So much growth over the past seven years. Or is it six? Or eight? I don't even remember ... and it doesn't really matter.

I don't need to count, because the more time there is between me and my marriage, the less it counts. It's not that it didn't happen; it's just that it has no impact on my life now.

So, I guess the Irish luck is the one thing I got to keep in the divorce.

That ... and myself.

After the half, home

Well, I did it. I've completed my second half marathon.

And man, did it suck.

For the full report, you'll have to check my health and wellness blog, here. But for now, there are two things on my mind.

1. You have to get out of your own way. I can't tell you how many times over the past few months someone has mentioned that they think what I'm doing is extraordinary. And it is; I know that not everyone will have the gumption/moronic tendancies/commitment to run 13.1 miles. I also know that if I can do it, quite literally anyone can. You have to make up your mind, then you have to create a plan. Then comes the hard part. You have to get out of your own way and carry out the plan.

2. I am not obsessed. That's the second most common remark I hear from people when they hear about my fitness plans. "You really are obsessed, aren't you?" This often comes from people who are also obsessed, but their obsessions usually include the real housewives of somewhere, or some other "hobby" in which one can indulge in front of a television screen. So if, in their opinion, I am obsessed, here's all I have to say on the subject: mine is saving my life. Yours is killing you.

And now I'm home, getting ready to plan for my next big race, and another half marathon after that. I truly love my sport.