…and all through the house, I’ve been running around like a fucking crazy.
I actually only got home from work about an hour ago; I was supposed to leave there at 2:30, and due to a shitstorm of shit, left at 6. I stopped and got groceries (my dinner: brown rice pasta with tomato and basil sauce; my breakfast tomorrow morning: bagels with peanut butter, greek yogurt, and maybe a granola bar).
The plan is to meet one of my running buddies at about 5am on the El, chill downtown for a bit, get into the corral at 7:45, and cross the start line around 8:15.
I will start out wearing warm clothing, and may change into lighter clothing (though with 52-degree weather, maybe not). I will try my damnest not to start too fast. I will have water and Gatorade. I will do my best to remember to take a gel or block every 45-60 minutes.
I’m a little anxious, a little excited, a lot scared. I’m sure once tomorrow comes I’ll be semi-ok though. The nice thing about running is that, while different things can happen, the mechanics are basically the same. The first couple miles ALWAYS suck, it usually gets better from there, and the maintenance is up to you.
Everyone’s been texting, Facebooking, and well-wishing but perhaps my favorite encouragement came from my music teacher who said, “You’re about to do something really amazing.”
Indeed I am.