"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to." - J.R.R. Tolkien
It is two weeks and a day from the marathon. I'm feeling unprepared because I haven't been able to run this week at all. Work has been stressful, and I've been working late - late enough to make running not an option or at least enough to be exhausting. Thankfully there are not a lot of duty days left between now and the big day.
I really still haven't faced the reality that I'm actually going to be running a marathon. It has been a long journey to get to this point and I think I expected to feel like a different person. The Miranda of February wasn't a Miranda that could run a marathon, but the Miranda that is sitting here on the couch doesn't feel any different. I still struggle with getting out to go and work out, and the challenges of running are still present.
I've learned a lot though. I've figured out what shoe size I wear - a surprisingly mysterious number. I've learned that it is possible to have a toe that is all blisters, and then get more blisters on top of the original ones. I know what an iliotibial bands are, and that mine are constant complainers and are extremely high maintenance. I've gotten an idea of how often I need to re-energize on long runs, and I don't care what Nick thinks - vanilla bean Gu is freaking delicious. I've been inspired and humbled by the runners that I see on the lakefront every week, when a 60 year old woman, 80-ish year old man, 300lb person is there every Saturday running mile after mile it is hard to make excuses. For that matter I've decided that running is 90% mental. If you make the decision to get up and go, the battle is nearly won. It's the choice to make that first step out of bed and into your running clothes that is the hardest one of them all. Most of all I've realized that first step is still hard and will likely always be hard, but I've also realized that once I make it I can accomplish more than I ever thought possible. One week ago today I ran 20 miles. 8 months ago I never would have believed that possible.
This journey hasn't been without sacrifice and it hasn't been my all my own. I owe so much to so many - both thank yous, and apologies. I'm sorry that throughout this arduous training I've drifted away from almost everyone in my social circle. I'm sorry that I'm not making my Autumn trip to Boston and will be missing so very much this year. I'm missing the wedding that I've been looking forward to for over 3 years now and I wish it was remotely possible to attend. I haven't and won't get to see one of my very best friends this year, and I miss him. I'm sorry to my body - you weren't ready and I've pushed you to the limit, you've held up so well, two more weeks - hang in there. I'm sorry to my husband, without whom I wouldn't have have the confidence to get this far. He's helped patch up my toes, rubbed out knots, cooked mounds of pasta, and wiped away so many tears. His own injury has slowed him down but not done anything to stem the tide of unwavering support. He's had confidence since the beginning, even when I had doubts.
I have so much gratitude that I might burst with it. I'm so grateful for my experience with Team in Training - I wouldn't have been able to train for this run without them. I can't thank enough to everyone who has donated to my my fundraiser - your support has been overwhelming and so appreciated. I'm planning a fun way to say thank you officially after the race. I'm thankful for everyone who has offered me advice, words of wisdom and reassuring words. I'm thankful beyond words that I've had such a support network from my athletics Alma Mater. Due to one special person, I've had fears put to rest, injuries treated and further ones prevented. I would not be here without you.
There are things to do and more miles to run before the big day, but pervasively, the reality of that this journey is nearing it's end is starting to enter my consciousness. I am simultaneously anxiously awaiting and fearing that day, both due to the magnitude of it but also because it marks the end of a really long and life-altering odyssey, and I don't fully know what is on the other side - hopefully a finish line. For now, however, I'm going to stay here in this moment and trust that these past 8 months have prepared me to take on this trial that I never could have imagined.
"The miracle isn't that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start"
- John Bingham
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