First of all my little Snark Bugs no one sent me questions, so I guess Q&A Wednesdays have gone the way of the way of the beeper, no longer relevant but cool to talk about.... See if I ever ask you guys to do anything ever, ever again. HMPH (Stamps feet)
It's ok though, because instead of pouring over your questions, I have been obsessively pondering the following:
What is Ms.VampireS going to tell the phubster when I come back from San Fransisco in a body bag.
(Go ahead, take a moment and let that soak in, s'ok.....)
So here's the thing..... sometime in April or so.... I let one of my other good friends talk me into signing up for the Nike Women's Half Marathon (there's also a full marathon) in October of this year because I figured one of two things:
1. Our group wouldn't get selected (participants are chosen at random by drawing)
2. If we did get picked I had over 8 months to prepare, so it would be ok
Imagine my surprise and the kick in the gut I felt when we were indeed "chosen" to be participants at this year's marathon, followed by the weighty decision of actually having to train for this marathon. By train I mean walk around, and possibly run, maybe.
I'm going to let you in on a little secret here--> I hate running.
I'm not built for it with my one leg being shorter than the other (what it's a real problem I swear), and my activity induced asthma. The mere idea of running is enough to send me at leisurely strolls pace heading towards the hills. And yet somehow I had gotten myself inextricably tangled up in participating in a half marathon aka 13 miles of PURE HELL.
I started training with a vengeance. I was determined for the most part to make good on this whole marathon thing, I mean I had to buy a ticket to San Fransisco, figure out hotel arrangements, etc. So I was going to put in the effort necessary to make sure that it would be a successful venture. None of this typical devil may care attitude. I was going to focus, get strict, eat right, train every other day, and......................
After about the third week of this regiment, I broke down.
The kids got sick, I got sick, I got a cough I couldn't shake, so it was hard to be aggressive about training. I figured I have plenty of time, and my friends (I had also talked Ms. VampireS into this utter nonsense) were keeping me accountable, so no reason to worry.
Over the next few months I trained off and on.
Today I looked at the calendar. Race day is 10 days away. I fear I may die.
Even at the height of my training I never got into the true rhythm running a full on marathon would require. My lungs would get tight, I'd stop and power walk, or I'd turn my foot funny and then I'd limp around for an hour. I think I may just barely squeak by if I really keep my mind in the game and bear through the inevitable pain, cramps, scrapes, cuts, and bruises. I am hopeful that I will at least make it across the finish line before I collapse and die. Again, the key word here is hopeful....
Although I won't be too saddened by my many perilous tumbles as there will be most of San Fransisco's finest fireman stationed along the course to provide first aid, etc. In fact a well timed trip or two, may be just what mama ordered....
Anyway the prize at the finish line is this really great Tiffany's necklace (basically the only reason why I signed up anyway), and the only way to get it is to actually finish in the time allotted. Have I mentioned that I am pretty much shit your pants scared that I won't finish, that I might in fact have a heart attack and die from overexertion, and then have to be shipped back home in a body bag....
I'm hoping to be able to push these fears aside and just focus on the task at hand. It's too late to turn back, or amp up training any harder. I'm either going to drop dead, or barely stay alive. I'm hoping for the latter. I was thinking I should get my will drawn up before I leave next weekend, you know just in case... maybe leave a letter or two of apology, something for the kids to have to remember me by.
What can I say snarksters, I've got pre-race jitters and I can't seem to shake them. Any tips, tricks, helpful meditation ideas out there?
Ms. VampireS--> let me just apologize now in case I do in fact die, and you have to ship my body home. I didn't mean to collapse on you, I just really suck at running.
Lesson learned:
You probably shouldn't attempt something you already know you're really shitty at and from which you may possibly have to be toe tagged and shipped back home in Ziploc.
