There are 2 more days until our 50K ultra marathon— 34 miles of up and down over rocks and roots through the George Washington National Forest in central Virginia.
When I finished my last run this morning, training was official done. Now I’m just waiting- obsessing over details like toes socks, buying the kids’ groceries, and dying my hair.
I’m anxious.
I estimate it’ll take me 8-8.5 hours to finish- but I really have no idea. However many it is just seems like a long time to be outside. Deep thoughts.
With so many miles and so few people, I know I’ll be alone most of the day.
I’m worried.
I’m worried about being hot. I'm also worried about being cold. I keep opening the back door to intentionally notice the weather while looking at the app. “What does 42 actually feeeeeeel like?”
Other worries include blisters, stumbling, falling, getting lost, getting an eye poked out with a branch, bears, being so tired that seeing a bear doesn’t motivate me at all to run faster, etc.
Maybe most of all, I’m worried about giving up then remembering I can’t give up because there is no way out but on my own legs. Oh god. What if I have to get rescued?! Ugh!
I keep dragging my attention back to the positives. The feeling of moving with and through the trees that I love so much. The feeling of caffeinated butterflies and the smell of Bengay at the start line. The feeling of relieved accomplishment as I turn to see the finish chute, time clocks, snack tables, and smiles. The feeling of hearing a “good job” from an equally wrung out stranger.
But I’m still nervous. It’s going to be hard and I’m going to hurt. And I remember that’s why I wanted to do this to begin with.
From experience, I know that whatever is going to happen will happen. Then, it’ll be done. Saturday will turn into Sunday and I’ll move on to the next thing. I’ll have learned something. I’ll settle on a feeling of satisfaction in finishing the training and spending this time with Brian.
I’m grateful.
When I first shared the idea of an ultra back in October, I asked if he’d coach me. He said yes and took that role to heart. When he decided to run it, as well. I was overjoyed. He put together our training plan. He was at the door after each run to analyze what worked and what changes we needed to make. He figured out my shoes, gear, and snacks. He studied the course, booked the hotel, and arranged for kid coverage with his mom and brother.
Talking through our training has been a welcome alternative to the kids’ school stresses, hassles at work, politics, and the pandemic. This race has been something to do together. Ish. He’ll run his race and I’ll run mine. Like other things in the big bucket of "life while married", our runs are synchronous but solo achievements. On Saturday, our roles shift from doing with and for to simply witnessing the other do their best for themselves.
I’m also grateful for all the support from family and friends. Every single person had nothing but encouraging words. I appreciated the hundreds of check-ins throughout. I’ll be thinking of you all.
So here at end of this part looking forward to the next…
I’m ready.