LESS THAN TWO WEEKS!
I’m suddenly feeling the need to breathe into a paper bag…or to say, “you know, Scott, I was just kidding about this whole marathon-in-February thing. In fact, I was kidding about wanting to run a marathon at all. What say we cancel the hotel reservation and forget this whole incident ever happened, huh?”
Ack, nerves. They were hiding behind my prolonged state of denial…or perhaps I was using my prolonged state of denial to hide from them. Whatever the case may be, they’re hiding no more. Most of the time, they’re courteous enough to stay out of my way, but occasionally they plant themselves directly in my path to give me the staredown. I want to say, “don’t you know it’s rude to stare?” but I know it won’t make a difference. The nerves don’t care much about etitquette. So instead, I say, “Scott, what if I can’t do this?” or some similar expression of anxiety. Then, it’s his job to say encouraging things.
Because when it comes right down to it, I’m terrified. This whole time, I’ve been laying the blame for the Kentucky Derby Marathon on the heat. “If it hadn’t been so hot…” “Well, it was really hot that day…” Now, I’ll be testing that theory. Right now, I don’t particularly think I want to know the result. Because if I don’t finish this time, what does that say about me? What kind of a weakling puts in a 22-miler and then can’t seal the deal?
Sigh. Nerves. Only twelve days before I can put them and my fear aside, and (hopefully) finally complete this goal of mine.