Three hundred and sixty five. For a girl who couldn’t run a mile in high school, that number seemed beyond reach. But I set it—kind of on a whim because, at the time, a mile a day didn’t seem so bad—and then promptly forgot about it.

By the time I remembered that goal, I was several months into the year without any miles logged. In order to finish by the end of November (which was my goal, presuming that Iowa weather would be a killer in December and I refuse to use treadmills), I figured out with some simply calculations that I would have to run 12 to 13 miles a week every week through November. (Yes, that means that instead of 52 weeks, I was cramming it all into 29 weeks.)

I’m not sure whether that knowledge was daunting or motivating, but if there is one thing I do not like, it is losing and, for me, to not finish meant failure. So I put one foot in front of the other and I ran…then I stopped, doubled over, caught my breath, then ran some more.

During the dead of summer, with heat indexes over 115, I ran. When I started seeing spots, I swallowed my spit, walked it off, and, once I felt stable again, I ran. And somewhere, sometime, somehow I started to enjoy it. I began to get antsy if I took a day off. I started to prefer getting up and stretching my legs against the pavement rather than being inside.

I only pushed myself a few times to run over 2.5 mile stretches, but mostly I stuck right in that range. It was a distance I knew I could do and so I just worked on getting faster and not taking any breaks. Slowly, so slowly that I didn’t even notice it, I started getting stronger, faster.

In the middle of September, when my grandma passed away, I took a week off from running. I wasn’t feeling good anyway with a rough cold and the days were a blur with family, visitations, and a funeral. When the dust settled, I looked at my calendar and realized that I was signed up for a 5K that I hadn’t practiced for at all. I didn’t even know if I could run 3 miles.

Turns out, that race was the turning point in my 365 running goal. After that race, after I knew that I could do it, I began running 5 kilometers almost daily instead of my regular 2.5 miles. I pushed myself a few times to go even further, but found, to no surprise, that I got bored. Running 5 miles was boring to me, even when using all of my usual mind tricks to keep me entertained. So I cut it back again to 3.15 miles and I picked up my pace.

After a particularly exhilerating run and a rough month of life, I decided that I was going to set higher goals for the next year. I was going to push myself even more. I was not only going to run 365 miles in 2011, but 400 miles in 2012 and, in 5 years’ time (from 2011 through 2015), rack up a total of 2,000 miles.

So, that’s the plan. It’s daunting. I know that already. But I also know that I did it this year. I did it. I’m not a runner; I’ve never been a runner; I don’t even have runner’s legs (whatever that means). But I can do this. Through shin-splints, bruised ankles, and painfully tight calf muscles, I can do this. And the really great part is that I’m already almost 1/5th of the way done!

Before I’m 30, I’m going to run 2,000 miles and a half marathon. I’ve got 4 more years to go. Slowly, but surely, I may actually start to love this thing called running. In the meantime, my goal is just to keep doing it.

On November 11th, I ran my fastest pace (a full 30 seconds per mile below my previous record pace) and finished 3.5 miles to push my year’s total to 365.67.

I did it.

Cheers to sweat, good sports bras, and the steady rythym of feet on the pavement. And to 365 miles run! 2012, you and me, me and you, we’re going to kick some butt.

“My only ambition is to continue running–forever. Too many people are so intense with their running that they burn out and never do it again. I want running to always bring me pleasure.” (Kay Ryan)