Kerre Woodham: Running scared and an object of condescension and pity

I've always found it difficult to say no, which has made for an interesting life. But this is one time when I think perhaps I should have.

There I was, 41, bored, wallowing in a mini mid-life crisis and hoping it wouldn't escalate into one of Hosking-esque proportions, wondering what the next challenge should be, and along came Regal Marlborough Salmon with a proposal.

I would run the Auckland Marathon; they would supply me with enough Omega 3 to hold my clapped-out body together plus a personal trainer and donate five grand to charity should I finish.

And so I said yes. And now I'm wondering just what the hell I've committed to.

Nobody, but nobody, thinks it's a good idea. The response has been incredulity and mocking laughter.

When I decided to go to university, everyone thought that was a great idea. Giving up the booze, ditto. Lots of encouragement and support.

Running a marathon? Everyone just thinks it's silly. And, as I haul my carcass around the block, I'm beginning to think the same thing. I'm not built like a runner. Runners look like racing whitebait. I look like a well-fed pet trout.

And other runners know I'm not a real runner. Real runners, in their skimpy shorts and sweat-proof singlets, don't give me the eyebrow raise they give each other. They see me puffing and blowing in my leggings and my supersize T-shirt and know I'm a fraud, just another middle-aged woman trying to lose her 10kg surplus.

I used to see women like me as I drove past them and think, "Oh dear - the poor thing. Oh well, never mind, at least she's trying." Now I'm one of them - an object of condescension and pity.

The other thing about runners is that you never see a happy one. Do you ever see runners smiling and passing pleasantries to other footpath users? You don't, do you? They're all in their freaky zone, counting their heart beats and doing complicated divisions with their special watches to work out oxygen used for kilometres run.

I'm not even sure I want to be a runner. But it's too late now. I've made the commitment. I've started the training. And I've got just over five months to get myself ready to run the Auckland Marathon. The long-term aim is to run 42km in less than five hours. My trainer, who's a young, fit, gorgeous thing, says if I can do it in under five, he'll be delighted. Secretly, I'm going for just over four.

But short term, I'll be thrilled if I get an eyebrow raise from a real runner.