Twas the night before race day

'Twas the night before race day and all through the town, yada yada.

Tomorrow is the Four Miler! Woo! And I am soooo crabby. I have had a cold, and haven't been able to really run or to swim all week, though I did do a LOT of walking. After work today, I braved packet pickup. This is a four mile race in a small city, and they need multiple people directing vehicular traffic at PACKET PICKUP. Yes, this is a big deal here. Almost 5% of the area's women run this race, by my estimation. Though I'm a native, this is my first time running this race. But oddly enough, it was this race that got me to run the marathon last year.

When Max was just 8 weeks old, I headed to the shop to get a new pair of running shoes. I had a crazy idea that I might run a half marathon. After all, I had 8 months, and IronMo was about to do her SECOND IronMan and had just qualified for Boston. While I was there, I asked about training programs, and Mark looked at my squishy, postpartum bod, and the baby in the carrier, and said, gee, the Four Miler program would be just perfect. And I was so mortally offended that someone would think that I needed to wake up early every single Saturday morning for 3 months just to go four little miles, that I immediately decided that yes, I absolutely MUST do a marathon. So I did. Simple as that.

Now please don't think that I am belittling anyone's accomplishment at running the Four Miler. I am not. And it is a big deal! Go, sisters!! But for me, with my crazy postpartum hormones, and my stubborn, Capricorn disposition, four miles just wasn't worth getting up early for. Go big or go home, right?

The irony in all this is that I *am* running it tomorrow, and I am nervous as all get out. I might not have been this nervous for Richmond last year. I'm so anxious about the crowded course, about trying to pace myself, and really doing my best, despite my recent injury and illness. And quite frankly, I'm nervous about the huge, rah-rah group of runners. While I like a little company on a run as much as anyone, I don't relish the thought of running with 2699 women who are having the culminating event of a very long journey. I like running for the same reason I like swimming - they are fake team sports. Like, if you're on, say, a field hockey team (which I was back in the day), you have to maintain a certain baseline level of good communication with your teammates. When you run or swim, you're all in it together, but for the most part you can just shut up and go to your happy place without inviting 2699 other women.

But, as always, go big or go home. So I'm going out tomorrow to break 42:00, a 10:30 pace. Wish me luck. And if you see me on the course, just keep right on going. I'll talk to you when I'm done running.