Catch you up and here we go

It is officially the day before race day. Half marathon day. And I am ready, but before I launch into all that, here are some things I've been doing.

The week after Moab, I was in California for business. While I was there, I genuinely tried to get a few good runs in, but I was largely unsuccessful. I did one on the treadmill at the hotel, but it was at least 195 degrees in the workout room. Then I drove up to San Francisco one day, with the hope of getting a chance to run at Golden Gate Park. But by the time I made it up there it was too dark to get a run in. The third day, I just threw in the towel. I felt terrible about it, but I'd searched all over for a place to run outdoors and didn't have any luck at all.

The weekend after I returned from CA I ran the Hope with Every Step 10K. It was a really hot day with a nearly cloudless sky... and not an inch of shade in sight. As I lined up with the other 10Kers (all 49 of them), my iPod (of course) crapped out on me. I was only about a mile in and a horse trailer pulled right in front of me, so I had the lovely view of two stinky horse's butts to enjoy.

And, after a miserable 6.2 miles, here's my finishing scene:
Yes, that is the sweep bike right behind me. He is carrying all of the course direction signs, and he was riding my huge bumper because I was DEAD LAST. He might has well have been carrying a huge sign that said "And here comes the SLOWEST runner of the day."

I was slightly mortified, but afterwards, it sort of dawned on me that being DFL wasn't as bad as I'd always imagined it would be. Sure, I was last... but I ran a decent race on the day that I was given. Sure, I could have been a little faster if there'd been a little shade, a little gatorade on the course, etc. I was slow, but I'd done a good job, and I'd just finished my first official 10K. And it helped that no one pointed and laughed, too.

In the week that followed, I did my weeknight runs (well, most of them, at least), and SoxFan's dad came to visit the following Thursday. We had a great time fishing and driving in the woods and playing board games, but I split from them early Sunday morning to do the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure with a friend. On the way there, I heard a radio advertisement for a pair of Lee jeans that instantly give you "a tighter butt, slimmer thighs and a flatter stomach." Well, that was just about enough to get me to turn the car around. Alas, I decided to head on to the race anyway, and it's a good thing. Here's a picture (taken at 6AM):

Before the 5K, I ran 6 miles out and back on the Cherry Creek Greenway. On the way, I figured out where approximately half of Denver's homeless population resides. I tried to time it just right so that when I finished the 6 miles I'd be at the starting line for the 5K. And, hands down, this was the best run I've had since I started training for the Half Marathon. The run was easy. I felt strong. I felt confident. It was... the best run of my life.

Then I did a few more weeknight runs on the treadmill at work, then the weekend came and it was time for me to do the dreaded 10 mile run. But when the day came, it was about 30 degrees and raining. Boo. I thought I'd wait until later in the afternoon in the hope that it would warm up. It did not, however, so I did not run. This was the first time since I started that I'd skipped a long run, and I was none too pleased that the first one I'd missed was also the first double-digit run.

I did it on Monday evening. And I didn't do any walking. And on this run, I figured out where the other half of Denver's homeless population resides: the other side of the Cherry Creek Greenway. I ran out and back 2.5 miles, then out and back in the other direction 2.5 miles, and then it was DONE! And even though it was just a long run (not a race or anything) I felt very proud of myself for the double-digit accomplishment. I felt like I could have kept running. I felt like I could run a Half Marathon. After 9 miles, I just sort of went on auto-pilot and I felt like I could have run 100 miles.

Which brings us to today. It's the day before the Half Marathon. And all that confidence that I earned on Monday has slipped through my fingers. I feel unsure of myself. Unsure that I can run even 2 miles, let alone 13. I went to the expo yesterday and picked up my race packet and in the middle of that room full of incredibly fit people, I felt like a complete and total fraud.

But, I expected this. I am ready. Sure, I've missed a weeknight run here or there, but I can do this. I know that I can do it because I knew it on Monday. I knew I'd feel nervous the night before the race. I knew I'd feel even more nervous the morning of the race. But I also know that I've got enough excitement about that last 100 yards to carry me through. I'll do this tomorrow.