Monday, May 30, 2011

Someone chase me

So...I've always been part of the "don't run unless being chased" group. Actually, let me restate that. I've always been part of the don't MOVE unless being chased group. I mean, ask anyone who knows me...I would send my cat to go get my drinks if the lazy things would oblige.

As I mentioned in my earlier blog post, on July 17th I will be doing 13.1 miles for Crohn's.
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For the most part, I joined up with this and committed to this without thinking. I kind of was like, pshaw. 13.1 miles? What's the big deal? I'm sure it will be fine. And now, as I've gotten up to 6 miles, I'm sitting here going 13.1 miles? WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY WERE YOU THINKING???!!!
Actually, I would have more exclamation points at the end of that sentence but I'm far too exhausted from the 6 miles.

As the day gets closer, I'm realizing that I'm scared. I will do this. I know I will. And when I cross the finish line, I will cry with accomplishment before falling on my face and having to be dragged off the course by the paramedics.
But, for right now, I have all these thoughts in my head. In clinical crazy town terms, we call this Holy Shit What The F*** A Half Marathon? (Otherwise known as HSWTFAHF, you may be more familiar with it that way).

My fears are:
What if I don't finish?
What if both my kneecaps fall off?
What if I'm the last person to finish?
What if I fall down and pass out? (This will be remedied by pinning a note to my shirt that says take me to the nearest margarita and I will be fine).
What if I don't finish?
Did I mention what if I don't finish?
I can't decide what is worse for me...not finishing or being the last person to finish. It might be a tie.

Well, while I face my fears, while trying to have a heart to heart with my spazing leg muscles, I'll just ask for you to say a short prayer for my kneecaps. And maybe the rest of me.

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