Sleepless

Last night I was tossing and turning thinking about the marathon.  It isn't unusual for me to sleep poorly the night before a race, but 10 nights before a race is a little ridiculous.

I was worried mostly about hard it was going to be.  Would I have the guts it's going to take to make it through those last hard miles?  Would I be satisfied if my time is slower than I'm hoping for?  (And what I'm hoping is not at all fast)  Would I be able to finish at all?

I tried to channel that worry into positive visions - I tried to picture myself crossing the finish line, getting a finishers medal, getting wrapped in a space blanket.  I've done enough races to have an inkling of the rush that comes from doing something hard, doing something that pushes me out of my comfort zone.  In some ways it doesn't feel real, which is odd because I've been anticipating this for so long. It feels like I haven't done enough, like I am a marathon training poser.

Because I was so restless I went downstairs to the couch to read so I didn't disturb John.  I woke early and went for a run (exactly what I needed) and John asked what had been wrong in the night. I told him I was worried about the marathon...    He says: "It's normal to be worried, but remember this is supposed to be fun."

Me:  "I know that.  I know that.  But I still worry.  Aren't you glad you married me?!"

I'm glad I got that sleepless night out of the way early.  I am going to do my best to kick that worry to the curb.  To begin to appreciate all I've done that's taken me this far.  To give the race all I've got and be satisfied with the journey, regardless of the outcome.