Jim's blog-a-day has inspired me to update in advance of my second try at the big one. I'm afraid it's slightly unhinged.
As it stands, I think I'm going to need a much bigger shovel. That one I use to dig and dig deep. That stupid little back tweak I did a couple weeks ago hasn't budged. My back is stiff, sore, causing other bits to tighten, you name it, it's playing up. Carrying around my stuff to and from the expo yesterday was enough to stiffen everything called 'core' and I've just finished a self-pitying crying jag out of sheer frustration that this is not the bloody way I wanted to go into this race. Came too far, in many more ways than one.
But I will go into that corral L and I'll dig and I'll fight with all that I have for my goal. Five. Thirty. Something. Say it with me...fivethirtysomethingfivethirtysomething...
I'm sure I can handle the pain as is, but this is the kind of thing that likes to throw everything else out of whack over 26.2. I will spend the better part of tomorrow reminding myself to tighten my core, keep technique, tight, fast cadence, shake out on the walk segments. All the stuff that comes with experience. I remind myself now that this is marathon 3 this year, 5 if you count the two ultras. Two ULTRAS. I have come so far. Tomorrow I want to go so much farther.
I know this community is full of people who've conquered far worse. I've done it myself. In fact, last time the dominoes took out pretty much my entire body like this during a race, I got my current PB. 5:50 and change. Maybe it's an omen. Maybe this defines the bigger shovel. I ask as I always do, 'What would Hollywood do?'
Suck it up, buttercup. Relentless forward progress. Eyes on the prize. Run. (Walk-run).
I've foam rolled to oblivion, packed umpteen nurofen meltlets and that old reliable tube of voltarol. But I'm most definitely going to need a bigger shovel.
I'm writing this down, here, exposed, for all of you to witness because I know it's going to hurt like hell and that ridiculous chimp loves to tell me it's ok to move the goalposts if it's starting to hurt too much. On many occasions I have because they don't matter as much but this...THIS...
Into the lake with you, old chimpy and there but for the grace of God go I.
On a painful yard. Go forth and DIG. No quarter.
See you on the flip side.
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