eleven days and one hell of a wakeup

I am starting to have dreams about the marathon. This happens every year, I don’t know why I am letting it freak me out today.

OK, yes I do. I was on track this year to be more prepared for the marathon than I have in the past four years. Eponymous and I were running a good training schedule and our time per mile was going down fast, and our distances were going up. AND THEN, I got sick for a month, right at the most crucial arc of our training cycle.

So, instead of doing my long run and tapering down to the last week before the marathon, I have been doing…. nothing.

Now, mind you, I was only marginally more prepared last year, I think, and it was fine. My chest feels clear now, and I have no shortness of breath, but I have no idea of where my aerobic capacity is just now. This is making me anxious, and this anxiety is coming out in dreams about getting lost during the marathon (as if that’s even possible) or not being able to finish.

AND THEN, I carry my sorry, tired bones to Dulles and board a flight for the UK that night. I hope the British Airways Flight Attendants can keep me supplied with water, and that no one freaks out and sets the air marshals on me when I start walking around the cabin to keep my legs loose.

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