Since July, I've been training for my first (and maybe only) half marathon, the Vegas Rock 'n' Roll Marathon and Half Marathon, and race day is less than three weeks away. As a self-professed non-runner, I have never ran so much in my life. To date, I've logged 125 miles, 50 in October alone.

And since I've started training, the one question everyone seems to want to know is why. If you dislike running so much, why would you sign up for a half marathon? The short answer is because I need to. 

When I was in third grade, we had to run a timed mile for P.E. class. I was a fat kid. Hell, even as an adult, no one has ever accused me of missing a meal. That one little mile was the most difficult thing I had ever had to do up until that point of my short, little life. I wheezed, I struggled and was one of the last ones to finish. It sucked. And that's pretty much how P.E. went for me until I hit high school.

My sophomore year, I started dating this guy and started giving a shit about how I looked. I started haphazardly working out. No real structure, just tried to run a mile or so a day. And was fairly successful. 

By the time I graduated, I was the leanest I have ever been, and working out every day, without fail. It wasn't even a thought that crossed my mind. And then came college.

Fitness and I had a complicated relationship. Sometimes we were on again, and sometimes we didn't speak for months. Cue meeting my future husband and getting engaged. 

I busted my ass getting in wedding shape, and I was a beast by wedding day. Then we moved to Alaska. And that gym relationship got real complicated again. Halfway through living in Alaska, I got sick of being out of shape and started hardcore lifting. I'm talking calculating-macro-nutrients-and-burnout-sets lifting. Everything was getting back to that high school mindset...until we moved to Japan.

Living on a military base means you are surrounded by some of the fittest people you'll ever meet. Almost everyone is living an active lifestyle - hiking, running, skiing, lifting, you name it. Which made it really easy to follow suit. 

The fitness center on base hosted monthly 5Ks (when it wasn't snowing a bucketload), and working for marketing, I spent months promoting every run. So naturally, my marketing partner in crime and I just did all of them. And before I could even think about it, I was running 10 miles or so a week. Nothing crazy. Instead of happy hour, we would get off work and run around housing. And it made me happy.

Then we moved to Vegas, and I straight up dumped fitness. No more running. No more lifting. For almost a whole year. I ate like crap. I was tired all the time. Everything felt bleak.

On one particularly hate-filled afternoon, mid-bite of some fried garbage, my husband suggested that we start running again. Get back in shape. The nine-year-old in me has always wanted to run a half marathon. Just to prove to her chubby little self that she can. That she won't collapse and die. So I suggested the Rock 'n' Roll because it's running the whole Strip at night, and if you're going to run 13 miles, why not have some pretty lights and music along the way?

Three months later, it's almost here. Sometimes I get lost in thought and run three miles without even noticing. Sometimes I fight for every inch. There has been lost toenails, sores from shoes rubbing for too long, cramps, and days where it felt like I would never walk normally again. There have been days with triple-digit temps, relentless sunshine, torrential rain, and damn near tornado-strength wind. There were days it felt great, and most days where it just plain sucked.

So then why?

Because if we aren't constantly challenging and pushing ourselves, then what are we working toward? Because without goals, what's the point? Because in the words of Kurt Vonnegut, "We have to continually be jumping off cliffs and developing our wings on the way down.” 

But most of all, it's because that nine-year-old needs to know what it's like to cross that finish line.