Day 1: Marathon

April 15th in Boston is marathon day, and coincidentally this year also tax day, two occasions marked by annual cycles. A year is a long time, at least it feels that way in this diet challenge I've committed myself to—committed being the key word (you choose which meaning I'm attaching here). Like a marathon, my goal shares some common attributes: the need for pacing, mental fortitude, endurance and sheer chutzpa. I guess I could say my training has been the increasing number of food allergies that I've developed over the past seven years that has reduced my diet significantly (more about the backstory in a few days). But just chicken soup, morning, noon and night for weeks? That's something else. That's a kind of odd deprivation I am unaccustomed to. It's not that I dislike chicken soup with nice chunks of tender chicken and a team of slightly too-soft vegetables swimming in broth—so far my first bowl feels satisfying and frankly quite comforting. We'll see how much I like it after 63 bowls, or more!

Back to the marathon. I'm at the start—or more likely running the hour or so to get to the start as most runners will do in Hopkinton this morning. I've got my gear (organic soup ingredients, high-dose probiotics, sauerkraut and kombucha fermenting in my closet), and I've tried to ready my mind for the task ahead, but now I have to face the fact that as I slowly move through the long and often hilly course, I may have doubts, weak moments when the chocolate covered mints will cry out to me in desperation "Eat me! I'm delicious!" "Yes, I know you are," I'll respond, but I have to keep my focus on the goal—the finish line, which for me is a healed gut.

Have I ever run a marathon that I should justly compare? Well, no, but my friends have and I usually stand on the sidelines at the base of Heartbreak Hill and cheer. Yes, I know that doesn't qualify me to expound on the difficulties of long-distance running, but I'm amply endowed with a dual sense of awe and compassion, and it seemed a fitting way to describe how I feel about my goal. Because I'm NOT a runner it feels like an impossible task. I could no more run 26.2 miles including the haul up Heartbreak Hill, then I could lift a Cooper Mini over my head. But I will take my energy and inspiration from the people who do. I tip my hat to them them and humbly sip broth in their honor.