I have been training for a 1/2 Marathon since early spring.  I remember the first couple of runs  were filled with self-recriminations about being out of shape and struggling through even a full mile of running.  I recall beginning at the 1/2 mile marker and not being able to run all the way to the 1 mile marker around Shelley Lake without stopping to walk, breathing heavy and holding the stitch in my side.  But systematically, one run at a time, one 1/2 mile and later, a mile at a time, my distance has slowly improved.  I couldn’t have accomplished it with out my running partner, Sherry, because inevitably as one us would falter, ready to quit a run short and give up, the other would step up and cheer us to finish the run.  Last weekend, I ran 11 miles by myself, my furthest run yet, with only my own voice to cheer me on. The first 3 miles were still as ragged and exhausting as any of the  early season runs.  But as the run progressed in the lovely crisp fall weather, I began to feel the exhilaration of accomplishment of something that had seemed so far off 6 months ago.    Each step in those final miles on Sunday highlighted how just beginning something is the surest method to accomplishing a goal.  Wish me luck on November 8th!