I need to freak out. I need to have a moment. I need to get it out of my system and move on.
I will be running a marathon in five days. Five days! 26.2 miles. Tweny-six-point-two! This most certainly calls for exclamation points.
I mean, what was I thinking? I was thinking running for five hours would just be a piece of cake. I think at this point I’d take the cake. Chocolate, please.
I have been training regularly, for the most part. Long runs on Saturdays, yoga to recover on Mondays, interval work in between, or in the case of the freezing cold, snow week — nothing. My 17.5 miler was awesome, great weather, great energy. It was almost enjoyable. And then came the 20. Let’s just say it was disaster. I’m not willing to publish what went down, but it might have involved a rescue. Last week, was 20 miles take two. It went much better, but it was still completely miserable at the end — my right ankle won’t let me forget it.
Despite the hiccups along the way, my mantra of late is “finish it.” I’ve got my lucky pants, favorite socks, energy shots, hot pink kinesiology tape, protein powder and a play list that won’t quit. Am I forgetting anything?
Whatever Sunday brings, I’m going to give it my best shot and leave it at that. Bring it on.