By Jamie Ducharme, News Staff

As I stood as a spectator near the starting line of the Boston Marathon Monday watching more than 20,000 lean, toned runners begin their 26.2 mile journey with steely determination, I wondered what could possibly be more damaging to my fitness self-esteem.

I had my answer slightly more than two hours later, when the male and female winners were crowned with times of 2:12:40 and 2:31:50, respectively. As I watched them cross the finish line on television, it seemed absolutely unfathomable that a human could accomplish such a thing. Shaking my head in amazement, I began to question if it was time for a change in my fitness regime.

I think I’m a fairly athletic person. I began playing sports when I was 6 years old – if you can count T-ball as a sport, that is – and continued throughout high school, playing varsity field hockey, basketball and lacrosse. I loved the adrenaline high of competition almost as much as being on a team, and was more than happy to devote countless hours to games, practices and training.

When I got to college, organized sports fell off the map. With so many other things to do and worry about, my beloved team sports were sacrificed, replaced by exercise machine sessions or group fitness classes at the Marino Center. And it dawned on me while watching the marathon runners that I no longer feel any sort of passion about my workout routine. Ever since I stopped playing sports, working out has been solely about staying in shape, not doing what I enjoy.

I do still like exercising on some level – I love the feeling after a good run, and I always look forward to my Zumba and pilates classes – but physical fitness has become more of an obligation than anything else. I miss having the sense of purpose I saw on the marathoners’ faces, the drive that makes them willing to endure pain and exhaustion. In short, I miss having a fitness program I really care about.

I’m not saying I’m going to go out and start training to run the Boston Marathon next year; I value my survival too much to do that. But I think the horrible feelings of inadequacy the marathoners gave me will be the inspiration I need to make exercising about more than just burning calories again.

Maybe that will just mean setting goals during my gym visits, like conquering the weight machines I’ve always been so intimidated by or shaving a minute off my mile time. Or maybe it will mean making time in my schedule to join the club field hockey team next fall, or at least taking up an intramural sport with friends. I just want to care about working out again.

I’ve already started in on that goal: My friends and I have vowed to run the relay-style marathon in my hometown, Manchester, N.H., next year. It may not compare to taking on Heartbreak Hill, but it’s definitely a good start.