My moral dillema

So, I have been training for a marathon.

A marathon I have not registered for (its $130 people!!).

And when people would ask if I was registered, I would simply tell them about how I was going to buy a race number from a person who could no longer run the race (because there are always drop-outs, or things that happen to prevent people from running....like laziness!). My plan was to do the training, and then a week before the race I would look on Craigslist for someone selling their race number. In fact, I told myself that I was actually doing a good deed because the marathon does not refund anything if you choose not to run or cannot run the day of the race (but they will send you the T-shirt--- they are that giving), and I figured I was only helping some poor soul to recoup some of their losses (some, not all, because I was only going to offer about half price).

And I felt that this was a step up from my prior plan-- to bandit run the race. You see, last year when I ran the half, I scoped out the place and realized that there is no security on race day to make sure that only registered runners are involved in the race. There is very little order at all actually, at the starting line. IT would be a perfect race to bandit run (what I call just showing up on race day and running with registered runners-- they are public streets after all, and I would only be costing the city $1 in gatorade).

So my plan had become what I call "proxy running." I was running on behalf of someone else, someone who couldn't run. I was merely running in the place that they had already reserved. Just like a season ticket holder who lets you use their seats for a specific performance. I figured that there was no harm done. Seattle was planning on one person running with that race number, and one person would. And I was planning on paying for the benefit, so I wasn't taking anything for free.

I was going to be soooo good! I practically felt holy for all my goodness.

But then someone told me that what I was planning on doing was potentially unethical, and perhaps could be considered dishonest. So I looked up on the race website, and in very clear English (obviously not written by a lawyer), it said that all race numbers were non-transferable, and could not be sold or given away, and that any person who did sell or give away their number could be banned from running these marathons for up to three years. Now, how they would find out about it, I don't know, but the fact was I now had knowledge. I knew that it was against the rules. I knew that at least on paper, there were repercussions.

and it began to fester inside me. I began envisioning being struck by lightening at mile 20 on the day of the race. I imagined being escorted off the course by an armed guard, hired to catch dishonest runners. I imagined breaking my foot. It even occurred to me (horror of horrors) that I might not find anyone to sell me their number, and I would be left to not participate (although, it did occur to me that Richard and I could have figured out a 26 mile course around seattle and set up gatorades every 2 miles and I could have ran a marathon for about $8-- but that takes away all the fun of running a race).

It continued to fester. So I talked to a friend, and she made what I considered to be the most cutting point of all. She basically helped me to see that I just didn't want to pay the same amount for the marathon as everyone else. Because there was still time to register. I just wanted a better deal. She said it would be different if the opportunity to register was no longer there, but it was, and I was just being cheap. She actually said it much more eloquently than that, but I could see her point. Because she was one of those who was already registered and thus had paid the full price for the marathon.

it also made me feel like a vulture...waiting around for a runner to quit or drop-out or fail in their training. Yuck! Not very appealing.

so, I did it. I registered. I'm honest!

And you will see me cross the finish line, officially, on June 25, 2011.