OMG. In less than two weeks I will hopefully run my first road marathon, the Milwaukee Lakefront Marathon, because it’s the race my Dad wanted to run before he passed away. He never got the chance. My tummy butterflies are so frenzied, I might lift off.
I have so few workouts left to complete. One interval run. One 10-miler. One tempo run. One easy run. And that is IT. It has seemed endless. I AM FINALLY TAPERING.
I’ve been running nonstop, all summer. My custom race day tank top has arrived, with my Dad’s picture on the back. I’ve thought about him every step of the way, and I’ve often felt him with me, watching the paint of a long run dry. Let’s do this, Dad! I’m so ready!
And then, the self doubt enters in.
What if I get sick between now and race day? My kids have already brought illnesses home from school.
What if I can’t do it? I’ve completed a trail marathon and holy moses, miles 17-26.2 were not cute. Distances over 15 miles are, to me, the uncharted hell of the ocean’s depths. Creepy things swimming around with massive jaws, sharp teeth, and glowing, popping eyes. Anything can happen down there and the blackness seeps into your mind and does things to it.
Why anyone would willingly venture into that territory, I don’t know, but I signed up for it, and here we go! In less than two weeks!!!!!!!!!