Apparently this morning is all about the bits and pieces. I have no flowery prose or any insight on what running really means. We’ll just file this under Keepin’ It Real.
I slept like hell last night. I don’t think I went more than an hour without tossing and turning. And I had weird dreams about race tracks (for horses) and not making it to the starting line (mine) on time.
I woke up not-hungry, but I forced the pre-run breakfast I haven’t touched in a month anyway.
They say you’re not supposed to “fix it” if it’s not broken.
I don’t think I would really know right now if it was…broken.
But I think we can all agree that if there’s something I haven’t done over the last 26 days, it’s test out breakfasts for endurance and my ability to stomach them.
There were no pace bands at packet pick-up last night, so I’m going to be rocking the pace tattoo.
Say what you will about it, it’s deadly-effective.
Marcus claims that doing splits in his head distracts him. Because for him, math is fun. For me, I would just run, completely unawares of whether or not I was actually on-pace.
Thank goodness my Halloween costume has long sleeves.
Meanwhile, Marcus has epically earned the Husband of The Year Award. Yes, earlier this week, Runners’ World declared the 25th the official National Married-to-a-Runner Appreciation Day.
But Marcus is so beyond that. Yesterday he downloaded some songs for my playlist (and left them on my desktop) and sourced me a toss hoodie emblazoned with “Bad Girls Of The North,” since right now the weather forecast says that I’ll be wandering aimlessly around the “Race Village” enjoying the brusque 32 degree temperatures.
Sound familiar, anyone?
As per the usual, pray for strong legs, a safe finish and an empty bladder.
See y’all on the other side!