Countdown: 8 days to go…

This is what the Bluenose website says today.

8 days till Race Weekend.

When I opened the gift box containing the paid registration on Christmas last year it seemed like May 2oth was so far away. When I “officially” started training mid January and ran my first of many scheduled runs May 20th seemed like it would never get here. As the miles got longer and I pushed myself farther it seemed like it would take forever for me to prepare myself to step up to the starting line the morning of May 20th, take a deep breath and with a gentle nudge forward begin something I’ve been waiting to do for the last two years.

And now here it is, one week until the official start of the race weekend. There is nothing left for me to do training wise. Since January I’ve moved a total of 536 miles. It’s hard to taper when my brain keeps saying I haven’t trained enough or that I should attempt one more try at 20 miles. All I can do now is trust that my body will do what I’ve asked it to do and if for some reason I physically can’t that my heart will take over and I will finish.

I try even harder to let the voices and the negative thoughts pass. I don’t know if I can eloquently describe what it’s like to have the body of an athlete but the mind of an obese thinker. I wonder if it’s normal to cry without thought because a week from Friday I will be picking up my first official race bib and I hope it’s a really cool number (like 007 or something with a 253 in it).

I’ve been consumed by this marathon and what I want more than anything is to cross the finish line and with a sigh of relief know that’s it’s over…the first marathon is over. Every time you do something new, the first time is always the most scary, the most difficult, the most awkward, the most unknowing and in the end the most awesome. You never forget your first. I remember my first 5k, 10k and half marathon in glorious detail. I remember what I wore. How I felt and what it was like to be done. The other 5k(s), 10k(s) and half marathons I know I was there and I can recall some memories but nothing like the firsts.

The shoes are broken in.

The shirt printed with my name.

My body is ready.

I don’t know how much I’ll be posting over the next 7 days. It could be everyday as I process what I’m about to do. It could be nothing until the race is over. I wish this wasn’t so emotional. I wish I could just be the runner I was meant to be. Having been morbidly obese for much longer than living in this physically fit body it’s boiling down to calming my emotions and trusting that I’ve done the work. I’ve followed the training as much as I could (albeit being sick during those longer runs) and even though I think I could “do more”, I know there is no more to do.

I’m not just running for myself. I’m running for anyone that has thought they couldn’t. I’m running for the person trying to make the right choices and find it the hardest thing they’ve ever done. I’m running for the person that doesn’t believe in themselves because so many times before they’ve tried and failed. I’m running for the person that may be strapping on their worn out gym shoes and at 5 in the morning stepping on the treadmill because they are ashamed that someone would laugh if they saw them breaking a sweat…

So many emotions.

So many miles.

One finish line.

And I promise it will be ours.