The closer and closer April 26th gets, the more nervous and scared I become. It's a cliff, and as I'm moving towards it, I can feel my heels digging in.
I've worked so, so, so HARD to even get to this point, but I sabotage my own efforts to succeed even further. Now, as I'm sitting quietly in my room, I'm cursing the fact that I didn't warm up properly, that I would have been able to do the 10 mile run instead of a lousy 2-miler, and that tomorrow will be that much harder.
I'm having a heart-to-heart with Self, trying to remind Self that this is not forever. This is a means to an end and maybe, just maybe I'll like it more than I expected to.
The many weeks of being too lax with long training runs is coming back to bite me in the ass and I am just worried that I'm not gonna be able to do it in the end. Silly, I know, because I'm gonna get the credit for trying and even if it doesn't go as well as I'd like, it's the first one. There will be more. (After all, at the rate I'm running, Boston by 30 is looking more and more challenging.)
The people waiting at the finish line (figuratively and literally) are the ones who will still love me regardless of how well I do, but pride is obviously going to be what keeps me from wussing out at the last minute. (I hope.)
I'm trying to be light hearted and now that I've really recognized this "fear," I'm starting to thing I'll begin to laugh about my own perceived limitations. Any day now . . .
Here's to a better run tomorrow.