In about twelve hours, I’ll be crossing the finish of my second half marathon.  I am nervous.  I am excited.  I’m wavering between the two frequently.  I’m still mystified as to how those two can co-mingle so freely.

 

My nerves were somewhat soothed by remembering my first 1/2 marathon, eight years ago.  At that point, my lifestyle wasn’t entirely conducive to running.  I was still  bingeing frequently on junk food, compensating by running (and also the occasional laxative pills or detox diet), sleeping weird and irregular hours.  AND, obviously, that was before I’d experienced childbirth.  Which reinforced the productivity of purposed pain, and the fact that I can make it through more that I think i can.  But I ran it, and it was tough, but it was good.

 

So, for tomorrow:  I’ve got the shoes, socks, running tights (capri) shirt and sports bra, race number, and iPod (loaded w/the perfect playlist) at the ready.  I’ve got the knee taped way way up.  I’ve got the clocks set for the non-Daylight Savings time (thank God for gain-an-hour tonight!), and I’ve got friends (the “team”) set to meet here at 6:30 a.m., and before they do I will have had my 1/2 cup of coffee and pb-honey concoction.  I’ll have trained almost just like the schedule said for over two months.

 

But man, i am nervous.  I’m afraid I’m going to slip on the bridge and get all cut up.  I’m afraid it will be like that one really tough 9-miler (i told you all about it) where everything feels just blah.  I’m terrified of the sound of the starting gun, and the sudden rush of footsteps from thousands of competitors.  I’m afraid of the stitch that will be in my chest around mile 1.5, and in my side around mile 3 or 4.  I’m afraid my blood sugar will go low, and i’ll get all spacey (oh, and then, again, fall on the bridge.  That metal grate stuff!)  I’m even slightly afraid I will drop dead.

 

I am excited to run through some beautiful parts of the downtown I love.  I’m excited for the rush of that starting gun:  something I once heard so frequently, but have not experienced in those eight years!  I’m excited to set my mind to do it, and to just do it.  Excited that I am able to move, to run, to enjoy the effort and challenge of it.  I’m still amazed that after having babies, my body is able to recover and go on to do other difficult things.  I’m excited I actually did the training plan.

 

God willing, I’ll be done 12 hours from now.  I’ll be re-hydrating, and enjoying the feeling of all the hard work fading into the satisfaction of completion.  I’ll let you know how it goes!