...and the Bandit is getting cold feet (not the kind that can be comforted with hand knit socks). I am feeling so apprehensive about this marathon. What the heck is a chubby girl like me doing pretending she can run?
Some minutes I feel like-- I can do this.
Other minutes--I can't do this.
I am so close--months of miles run in the frigid, bitter cold and now I am 78 miles away from my goal. Three weeks. 9 runs...1037 minutes of running. 17.5 hours.
I've already determined what a mental thing this entire process has been. About 75% mental--25% physical. It seems as if the physical is failing me, but then I worry...is it the mental masking itself as the physical? My last run should have been an easy 5 miles mile and I barely hobbled through three. My average pace was 2 minutes slower then it should have been. That's huge. Over the last two weeks, I have been getting slower and slower, my foot and ankle pain, worse and worse. I pop Motrin like it's candy to keep the swelling down. But, damn, so close....
I don't want to have to start all over. Which I will do if necessary. I will run a marathon...even if it takes years. I am determined. But I don't know if I'll love it so much that I'll run two...so why go through all the training again? I am ready to go back to running just to run, not to train.
BUT... Plan B-- fall marathon in Detroit.WISH ME LUCK!
Tomorrow is my longest run, 20 miles. I am not ready. Physically or mentally. But if I run all 20 tomorrow and can still walk after (well at least walk by Monday) then I will be running when Pigs Fly...in 21 days.