Final Countdown

This will be my final blog entry until after the race tomorrow. 13 hours until the gun goes off. In the past 3 days I have shifted from a state of anxiety to an acute awareness of the pain that my body will endure tomorrow, to an acceptance of that pain and unwavering will to succeed.

I spent the week analyzing every thing I ate, everything I drank, every step of my last short runs, my overall preparation for the race, and my trainer/friend. I did everything right, if I fail it will not be because of how I prepared...in fact, it will be because I died because that is the only way in hell I will fail. I have not eaten one bite of red meat since the Five Guys incident before the miserable 18 mile run, and have had almost no fat this week. I drank a lot of lemon-lime Gatorade and less than one coke a day. My trainer and I ran 4 miles on Tuesday, 5 miles on Thursday, and I did my last 4 mile run before the race on my own this morning.

Last night my trainer/friend picked me up from school (work), and took me to the Washington Convention Center downtown to pick up my race bibs and D Tag for my shoe. Number 31898. Despite all of the excitement surrounding the whole convention center experience, with thousands of runners all there to pick up their packets, I was only focused on one person, my trainer. He held my hand and took me out for dinner and wine after. He dropped me off at my car (still at school), and kissed me good night. He confuses me. I went to bed early, assuming I would not be able to sleep much tonight.

Everything is laid out and prepared for me to get dressed in the morning. Black running skirt, long-sleeve black Under Armor shirt, TNT singlet, and matching purple sports bra. I bought new tighter running socks today and a little waist belt with expandable pouch (for tampons, because of course my period started this morning exactly 24 hours before the race, tums, and antibacterial hand wipes.) I have body glide, my bibs, safety pins, and a throw-away-at-mile-3- fleece in another pile. It might rain, so I gave my mom a pair of socks in case I need to change them along the way. I gave my trainer/friend(?) a pair of sweats, a long sleeve tee shirt, and another pair of socks for me to change into after the race.

As I am about to go to sleep, I reflect back over the last 5 months. I couldn't run a mile when this all began. Every run from 3 miles to 20 was a major accomplishment, after every new milestone I thought, "How will I ever run farther than that?" I have a completely new respect for my body, what it is capable of, how it changes in direct correlation to how it is treated and used. There is something empowering about not having given up, despite all the times that I wanted to quit, to stop. I loved that I haven't had to do it all alone, which is the complete opposite of every other aspect of my life. This process has taught me so much about myself, about a strength I had forgotten. And, thanks to my trainer/friend, I have also developed a patience that is well beyond my natural limits.

11 Hours, 42 Minutes, 34 Seconds.