The last time I ran a marathon I was so freaking dramatic about it.
You can read about it here.
Now again, it seems, this race has found a way to squeeze a little drama-juice into my off-brand sports drink.
Somehow a marathon always seems like a great idea when you sign up for it, five months in advance.
Cj and I were all smiles in April when we filled out the application, all smiles in May when we got accepted, all smiles in June when we bought our new running shoes.
And then, July. (And even worse, August! September!)
Here is a little recap of how things have gone. The drama seems to build as the runs become longer :
7 miler- I slid into home plate in a softball game the day before (in shorts) and tore all the skin off the back of one leg. Had to stop at mile 5 because the fabric of my shorts had pussed (gross, that is a lot of puss) to my leg and then ripped off.
9 miler- Had been feeling sick all day, ate In N Out for lunch that day. Got home from my run and threw up 7 times. out. my. nose. (Should I have warned you that all of these stories would be gross?)
15 miler- Pulled a tendon (or something like that? english major here) in my ankle-area. Literally cried the whole fifteen miles. And by "literally" I don't mean "figuratively." Pain.
17 miler- Woke up with a sever migraine. Got ready. Walked out the door. Couldn't see. Walked back in. Fell asleep face-down on my bed. Suffocated to death. (But seriously. How did I not? That was lucky.)
18 miler- Awesome! Felt great! This marathon is going to be the best ever! I love running!
The Next Week- Jokes on me. Hurt my back in a soccer game. Confined to my bed for a few days, still unable to walk without walking like Quasimodo (although at least I don't look like him this time.)
And now, here we are.
I am heading back to the doctor tomorrow for some more testing, adjusting and therapy. He is going to tell me if he thinks I am capable of running the marathon this weekend.
"Capable" is not exactly the word I was hoping for when I signed up in April.
I was thinking more along the lines of "fully prepared to win the entire race to the shock of my entire family and my high school track coach who always thought I was kind of a dead-beat."
Although, I guess that is a lot of words. And a lot to ask for.
For now, I would settle for "able to finish."
Cross your fingers for me?