I'm starting to get a little excited about this weekend's endeavor. I know that I've been running well, and hitting all the splits that Coach Kara suggested I hit for the tempo runs, long run, and 400s.
I just need to do the opposite of what Flava Flav and Chuck D tell me to do, and TRUSS' IT.
I just...I dunno...I think this is the thing that fascinates me about running. For me, I really feel like it's mostly mental. Now, let's get one thing straight--I ain't gonna head out there and tear up a sub-3 marathon or anything like that. What I mean is, for what I know I'm capable of, it's mostly mental. And I know that the splits I'm holding right now are more consistent and faster than anything I did when I did my last stand-alone half marathon in 2003. So...relax, self. Chill. Deep breath. Go with it.
As in life. I'm just going to have to trust that the chips will fall where they may, and that's OK. Had a nice long conversation with my girl Wil last night and yet another man-is-this-creepy-or-what realization that we share quite a bit of that in common. Sooner or later, you just get freaking tired of worrying about it all, and you have to let it go. You just pass out in the middle of everything, because you have to. And when you're done, you get up. And you go with it. And you're fine.
And this is pretty much an established pattern of behavior of mine, since, oh, 1977.
So, before I get to said pass-out-with-my-toys-around-me phase, I'm going to REALLY work hard on letting life be life. In pencil. Although my life has been mapped out for me exactly as I have planned for the past three years (literally--every workout, every day, every backpacking trip, every wedding, every degree), I need to accept that this is an anomaly.
Real life usually doesn't have an iron-clad workout log and a race schedule.
There, I said it! *shaking slightly*
And now, back to my race on Sunday...hey, THAT one's in Sharpie.
So sue me.