Little conversation yesterday with A. about my run:
Me: "Can you guess how many miles I'm going to run in the morning?"
A.:"No. Um...five?" (Since she is five of course.)
Me: Slight gulp. "20 miles."
A.: Look of surprise. "Aw, Mom, that's a long way! Don't worry, if you can't do it, just come on home. But good luck on your run."
Here's how it went down:
Up at 4:00 for toast with almond butter, liberal application of Body Glide, stretching and foam roller visit, bleary-eyed drive to high school. Hit the road at 5:30.
Blinky light, small flashlight-check, GUs pinned to fuel belt-check, mental mojo-questionable.
I prayed off and on during the first 5-6 miles under the stars, turned on the ipod (huge crush on Jesse McCartney's song Leavin' ) for the remainder. GU at mile 5 and 11. Wondered where was the promised cool front. Prayed again at mile 17. Cheered by the sight of Scott and Annelise driving by to check on me. Really wanted to get in the car. Jogged in to the high school parking lot to the sounds of the marching band practicing. I considered this highly appropriate. I'm sure they scheduled that just for me.
I was hoping to finish 20 miles, but packed it in at 18. That works for me. And my legs. (Surely I can pull out 8 more on race day. Surely. Right???)
Now I am officially entering my taper. The Marine Corps Marathon is 22 days away!!!
Squeal! And gulp.