Going into marathon training in early January, I foresaw this week " the week before the race " a lot of ways. What I couldn't have foreseen at the time, of course, was the uncertainty and anxiety I now would be experiencing because of a painful case of shin splints that struck just before a big 20-mile training run two weeks ago.

Marathon training raises quite a few questions from those unfamiliar with the process; I should know, I peppered marathoner friends and family with dozens of queries before signing up. Now I'm the one undergoing the third degree. Some questions arise more frequently than others.

Five weeks before the marathon, essentially the equivalent of running final exams, wouldn't be my first choice for travel, mainly because all of the distractions that make keeping up with a training regimen difficult. Nevertheless, I'm spending this week in northeast Ohio, visiting my parents, brother and sister, who made the trip from Asheville, N.C.

Some things are inevitable during winter in northern Michigan. There is the seemingly continuous snowfall. And the months-long, sometimes unbearable cabin fever. Then there's what we in the newsroom affectionately refer to as "The Grunge," a blanket term used to describe the multitude of undesirable cold- and flu-like symptoms that practically are preordained in this climate.

Rome wasn't built in a day. It's one of those pithy sayings we're taught from childhood to illustrate that hard work and dedication are necessary to achieve anything worthwhile. It's something I've been keeping in mind a lot lately, as I progress toward the Bayshore Marathon. Unlike the path at one of my favorite running haunts, the GT Civic Center, the road network of the Roman Empire likely was pretty difficult to navigate.

The myriad of products marketed to runners has got me wondering: Which are essential and which are the runners' equivalent of a Snuggie (oddly intriguing, but ultimately useless)? The first, most obvious running must-have is a great pair of shoes. Before seriously getting into running, I based my running shoe purchases on two main attributes: style and price.

I have always been almost lethally uncoordinated. Some have even said klutzy. As a would-be student athlete, I had much more enthusiasm than actual talent. After an assortment of unfortunate incidents, including a sprained ankle during a casual game of basketball and a black eye (not mine) during a Junior High volleyball match, my parents suggested I give the track team a try, reasoning that I would be highly unlikely to injure myself -- or anyone else -- while jogging a few laps on a level surface.

Let's face it: All but the most hard-core of runners in northern Michigan, with its notoriously snowy six-month winter, likely will spend a few runs indoors. Though the treadmill can provide a welcome respite from the lung-burning cold, it presents a choice: The inevitable boredom of a monotonous run versus the bitter winds, knee-deep snow and slippery sidewalks of the outdoors.

I never have considered myself an athlete. In fact, I used to think the dreaded couch potato gene was explicitly written into my genetic code. So I recently surprised even myself when I decided to register for the 2009 Bayshore Marathon and to write this column detailing my training.