Race Week

Make her proud, chubby little blonde kid

The race is Sunday (Sandy permitting), and the one thing that has consumed my life since May will come to an end. The training has gone better than I could have ever expected. I’ve worked my ass off but feel absolutely great. There’s no excuse for not hitting my time goal. This race is something I’ve dreamed about for years. Within days it will become very real, and I already have the butterflies to prove it. The marathon is a strange beast. You train and sacrifice and plan your life down to the smallest detail for 4 months just so you can perform well on that one day. And even on that one day, you still don’t know if all of the hard work paid off until you’re 22 miles into the race. That’s a lot of pressure but man, is it exciting.

There are so many things that I’m anticipating: My excitement at the start, the scope and grandeur of the course and how I fare in those final, horrible miles. But more than anything, I’m anticipating meeting my fellow runners, experiencing the crowds and feeling that overall sense of goodness that everyone who describes this race talks about. I read somewhere that if you begin to lose your faith in people, go be part of a marathon. I want to see that firsthand.

I’ll be making this trip with a twinge of sadness however. I guess on a journey like this, losing something along the way was strangely appropriate. Still, I will be at that starting line. I will focus, and I will run well. The day may not go quite how I imagined, but life rarely does. We adapt, press forward and keep running. Last week, I woke up for an early run before work. Outside it was pitch black and pouring rain. I sucked it up, grabbed my reluctant four-legged running partner and stepped out my door and into the rain. Within 15 minutes, the rain had stopped, the sky cleared and I saw something that I had never seen before. Two brilliant shooting stars streaked across the sky side by side for longer than I thought possible. A miserable start had turned into a terrific memory. A metaphor for life, I suppose.

If you’re at all interested in tracking me as I race on Sunday, the link is below. I start at 9:40 am, Eastern, and my bib number is 7553. ESPN2 will also be broadcasting the race, but I’ve been told that I will not be prominently featured on this broadcast. Wish me luck, everyone. I’ll let you know next week how it all went down.

http://www.nycmarathon.org/entrantinfo/trackmyrunner.htm