Marathon Angst

"You will not want to watch that movie tomorrow night," said my husband with narrowed eyes. "I've been here for the past few months, remember?" It was Saturday night, our down night for the weekend, and Rob was trying to convince me to watch "Firewall" with him while I bargained for an early bedtime and the promise of a viewing on Sunday night. I had my weekend run Sunday morning and had to wake up at 5:15 to fit in 11 miles before church. Rob knew that my fatigue on run days would overcome my ability to watch a movie - suspect on the best of days.

We failed in the movie-watching department though I got my 11 miles done. The run seemed ridiculously short compared to the 18 miles of a week ago and to the 20 miles that await next Saturday. I have moved into a strange sort of marathon-training Twilight Zone where 10 miles is a short run, bright pink KT tape wraps permanently around my feet, and the study of electrolyte replacement occupies my free time. When Rob comes to bed (an hour or so after me) he finds me with my feet pre-taped for the next morning, covered in my running socks so the tape does not unravel, and ready to jump out of bed at first light to start gathering miles. Not attractive, but far more comfortable than sleeping in a jog bra and running clothes, as I did when we were camping. There is just no way to discretely get run-ready in a tent at 6:30am!

Fashion issues aside, I've been feeling selfish about the marathon. Training occupies a lot of energy, time and mental focus. Nightly I ice my feet and my knees and reflect that I've passed the point of balance. But we only have three and a half weeks of hard training left, and as a friend observed, "This is obviously important to you." It is. I have been blessed with health and good luck so far in the training process, and I want to prove to myself that I can do this. When I tell people about the marathon they often say, "Oh, I could never do that," and I recognize the words and the tone from the times I responded this way. I shut the door, not wanting to acknowledge the possibility....because then I might have to do it. So now that I have opened the door I deeply desire to walk through it. If I can finish this marathon, what else could I accomplish? And how many more folks might realize that they can do it, too?