In 41 days, I will be in that crowd. In 41 days, I will be a marathoner. In 41 days, I will probably be more sore than I have ever been in my life.
I’m running the Chicago Marathon in 41 days and I must confess, I am getting nervous. The reason I began this post with “I will” statements is because I find that by saying “I will” and “I am” and “I have”, I feel like these 26.2 miles are already in the bag. And to be honest, I need all the confidence I can get.
Because for me right now, “26.2” rhymes with “Holy Shit”. When my feet are actually pounding the pavement, I feel like I can run this thing. I’m out there, I’m doing it, I can muscle my way through the whole shebang. But in most other waking moments, I have some serious self-doubt. Like, what am I going to think about for 26.2 miles? Am I going to like running with people all around me for 4+ hours? Should I use an iPod? Should I take Gu or those gummi things? Well, never mind on that- Gu is all slimy, gooey and gross. Definitely those gummi cube things. What if I get tired/hurt/cranky and I’m freaking far from home?
I know, I know, I know- this is why I’m doing long training runs. Which have all gone well. But thinking about race day fills me with some butterflies in my tummy. It was 86 degrees out today so I hit the treadmill to knock out my planned 9 miles. Ellen was on, thank goodness. I don’t care about the whole “real runners don’t run on treadmills thing”. I happen to love treadmills. And forgetting that I’m running because Ellen DeGeneres is cracking me up. And positioning a fan so it directly hits me. The miles were pretty easy today, which was very encouraging. Chalk it up to Ellen, my endurance or the ideal room temperature…I’ll take what I can get and I needed a shot in the arm of confidence.
So, that’s where I’m at. Punching out the mileage, trying not to be a huge wimp, thinking positive thoughts. Basically, every time I go “What was I thinking?!?”, I envision this:
41 days.