Yeah ... I'm totally shitting my pants right now.
And although me shitting my pants might seem more like a dip in my colo-rectal health, it's all mental. Trust me.
Taper run is done, and if it weren't for Husband running it with me, I wouldn't have made it more than 1.5 miles. I felt worse four miles into that taper run than I did at the end of the
15.5 mile run last week.
I was faster last week, too.
I feel like the next 5 days are going to be an absolute terror for anyone that has to deal with me. It's like the crazy-bitch switch is going to get flicked without any provocation, and then whoever has the misfortune of being there with me when it goes on, is fucked. I mean, they're fucked bad.
If I were you, I'd avoid me like the plague.
Husband, children, friends, chiropractor, clients and anyone providing some sort of customer service to me this week ... If the wrong Tracy shows up to any of our appointments, I apologize. She's meaner than cat shit when she feels threatened, and the 26.2 miles that demand to be run on Saturday, May 5th, are threatening the hell out of her.
Yesterday, mid-taper run, I'm pretty sure 'above' was telling me to just stick to knitting and competitive boozing.
I have to make things easy on myself this week. I need to start gathering my race day stuff and come up with a plan.
A client bought me Russell Simmons' "Super Rich." I declined getting it this weekend, because I had a lot of work to get done, and his book would be too tempting. This week, I'm going to spend time with Russell and a highlighter.
I'm going to put myself on a 6x/day calf stretching/water drinking routine.
I'm going to finalize my play list.
I'm going to schedule a haircut for the week after the race. I'm going to schedule a massage, too.
I'm going to listen to a lot of Talking Heads this week while I'm doing all this reading and stretching and hydrating. "Crosseyed and Painless" will be my go-to song this week.
I'm terrified that I'm going to psyche myself out on race day and give up at mile 12. Or that at mile 20, when the shit starts getting real, that I'm going to quit. I'm worried that what everyone keeps telling me about adrenaline and actually having 3,000 other people running with me isn't actually true. I'm worried it'll be hot. I'm still worried about pooping. I'm worried I didn't train hard enough. I'm worried I'll let people down.
And after that damn Leinenkugel gig, now I'm worried that Oprah* is faster than me.
You know who is way faster than Oprah? Midlife Rambler. I'd put my money on Midlife Rambler any day. What's he up to these days? He bangs out 10 miles and nearly falls asleep while doing it, he's that damn good. He's mentally stable and physically strong. And faster than Oprah. See what he's up to, here.
*I learned at the Leinenkugel shoot that Oprah** ran a marathon in 4:29:20. And now for reasons beyond my control, I'm competing against Oprah.
** Thin Oprah, from like, a decade ago.