All right, all right. I never really ran on beer and cigarettes in the first place.

Well, maybe some beer.

But these days, I'm running on a track. You know, one of those oval things you go around and around on, so you can get in better shape? It took me some time to get acquainted with the thing. I've been doing some cardiovascular exercise, some workouts with personal trainers at least once a week, and some walking/running. (More on that walking/running thing in a minute.)

The good news is, I've managed to drop about 30 pounds since the beginning of this year. Which is great. The bad news is, I've been stuck at that 30-pound mark the last couple months. One week, I'll lose a couple pounds; the next week, I'll gain them back. It's frustrating, for sure. That frustration, in turn, is a little bit what's made me start running. Every week my body doesn't want to lose a pound or two, I've decided I'll make it run some more. Maybe that way, it will get the message and start losing more weight.

Not exactly a scientifically or behaviorally valid approach to health, I'll admit. But I'm going with it until something better comes my way.

A few weeks ago, I hit a milestone: I ran for an entire mile without stopping. This was something I hadn't done since high school football. Then, just this past week, I hit a milestone I'd never seen before: I ran TWO miles without stopping. (Okay, jogged.) At least three days a week, I go to the YMCA, walk a few laps to warm up, then run a mile, uninterrupted. After that, I walk half a lap, then run a lap and a half until I reach four miles.

And as I said, this last week, I managed to push myself up to two miles uninterrupted, followed by the walk half-a-lap, run a lap-and-a-half routine up to four miles. When I push myself to three miles uninterrupted, I'll try to do the walk/run thing up to five or six miles. And I'll keep going from there.

My goal, you see, is to run a half-marathon. Specifically, a half-marathon in the Montana Marathon to be held in September of 2009.

Now, those who know me realize that Tony talking about running marathons is akin to Paris Hilton talking about advanced string theory. I have, you see, a body built for the couch. Definitely not built for the track. I know this, because my body keeps telling me that every time I run (well, okay, jog) around the track. But I figure, if I just keep running, my body will have no choice but to continue shedding weight. And it will have no choice but to edge closer to that half-marathon.

Why, exactly, would I want to run a half-marathon? Because it's exactly something I thought I would never, ever do. In fact, it's the exact opposite of anything I would ever want. A friend suggested biking would be less stressful on my joints, and it would. But you know what? I was a pretty avid biker in college, and I've done that. I've been on a bike a lot, even if not recently. A century ride on a bike is a huge accomplishment, but it's not really pushing me outside my comfort zone.

Running (okay, jogging) is.

Now, I've had a revelation about running. I've tried to do it before, been miserable, realized I was out of shape, and abandoned all thoughts of continuing. I've looked at the folks who do run consistently, and thought running was easy for them because they've done a lot of it, and they're in good shape.

But the thing I've realized--or at least the thing I think I've realized--is this: it never gets easy. Somehow, magically, as my endurance and fitness improved, I thought those first 10 or 12 laps (which felt like a lot of laps when I started) would start to feel like a walk in the park.

But those first 10 or 12 laps haven't become a breeze, and I think they probably aren't a breeze for anyone. The key is to push through it and keep yourself going, realize that you're going to have to work every step of the way. Once I realized that, the mental barrier about going any distance at all somewhat disappeared. And as I said, in the last month, I've worked my way up to two miles uninterrupted. By the end of the year, I hope to double that. And within another three months, double it again. (Then it's time to start running outside for six months, but we'll burn that bridge when we cross it.)

It strikes me that this revelation so appeals to me because it's a revelation about some aspects of life in general. Certainly about lymphoma. As I write this, I'm still cancer-free (as far as I know, knock on wood and all that). I'll go in for more scans at the end of this year, and deal with the anxiety that comes with them. But just as with running, I've realized: this is never going to get easy. I'm not just going to waltz in for a CT scan every six months as if I haven't a care in the world. It's scary, worrying about if, and when, your lymphoma will return. And even though I don't think about lymphoma every day (in fact, I'm happy to say I don't think about it most days), that six-month schedule puts me through a kind of mini-marathon twice a year.

But just knowing it's going to be difficult somehow makes it easier to manage, because inside, I know if I just keep putting one foot in front of the other, I'll be able to get through it. It won't be easy, but so what? It will be do-able.

And so, I'll just keep running through it.

Okay, jogging.