As in, “Why-oh-why-oh-why do I get myself into these things?” Consider this the doubt-ridden and fearful post of the second version of my countdown to 13.1. Squinting into the horizon to catch a glimpse of the final goal of half marathon glory 3 months away, 13.1 seems like a great idea. Sure, no problem! I have plenty of time to train! What a great way to test my boundaries…and etc. From a distance of 3 weeks, cheery confidence is replaced by cautious optimism. Wow, nearly time for that already? Where did the time go? Well, I’ve gotten in some good long runs. I’m sure I can finish. It might even be fun!

With only 3 days to go, absolute terror sets in. What…were you…THINKING? Thirteen miles?! Whose idea of fun is this? Do you realize that you paid $60 to run around for two hours? Oh, and P.S…two hours is the optimistic estimate! Fall off the edge of the map again and it could be longer! Crazy woman.

Fueling this enjoyable frame of mind is the fact that my stupid, good-for-nothing foot hurts. Quite a bit. I entertained (or annoyed) Running Buddy on Monday with a reprisal of the “my foot hurts” musical comedy. Its opening number is called “Ow-ow-ow,” a repetitive delight based on the rhythm of every other foot strike. 

There a couple of options for this: the first, and most likely, is that I’m suffering from a mild case of event hypochondria. I’m nervous, so I’m exaggerating a slight physical ailment to help take the pressure off myself. The second option…well, the second option has been so overshadowed by the logic of the first option that I’ve forgotten it. I think it involved a diagnosis of a rare and serious foot ailment previously associated with penguins in Antarctica and never before diagnosed in a human being. Highly unlikely.

The treatment for event hypochondria, per GTC-blogger Flemming, is to suck it up and get to the starting line. Traveling to Antarctica and living among the penguins, gaining their trust, and learning to communicate in order learn their remedies for an imagined foot ailment, while a viable option, doesn’t quite align with my three-day timeline. Besides that, I’m not a big fan of seafood.

See you at the starting line.


7 responses

  1. Well the opening number was the best of the entire performance, sadly the numbers that followed turned the comedy into a tragedy. 😉

  2. Gee, thanks for the introduction of pre-race jitters! I had been feeling good about this thing until I read that an experienced runner like you is nervous.

    Now I won’t sleep for the rest of the week….

  3. Oh, no! Don’t lose sleep on my account! Some runners never outgrow the jitters…no matter how many races they run. I’ll be fine on Saturday, and I’m willing to bet that you will be too. 🙂

  4. Meggers, you don’t have to do anything. You get to do things. This race ain’t no thing but a chicken wing. I believe in you 100%, and if you require anything more than your brother believing in you, phooey. Good luck, and give me a call if you need any anti-jitter talk. I’ll be in Florida if you need me. 🙂

  5. On a hurting foot you can run forver…

    So what if you toss a few cookies, it just means you have reached a new level !! Been there tossed that !

    Try some marine corps cadence chats.. 🙂

    I don’t know but I’ve been told
    (make something up here)

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