The Day Before

I will run my first marathon tomorrow. I've thought all day about what I should write for this post. Last minute soul searching? Countdown anxiety? I'm not sure how specific I can be as to how or what I'm feeling, so I figure I'll just detail this day for posterity's sake.

I finally fell asleep last night a little after midnight, woke up around 9am. A solid sleep, despite my inability to calm down last night. I picked up my race packet yesterday and spent much of the evening reading and rereading the participant materials, trying on my race day clothes, debating how cold 45 degrees would feel midrun. I settled on the same concoction of clothing I'd chosen pre-debate (typical), grey knee-length pants, dad's 1985 marathon tshirt, red long sleeve technical shirt with world's greatest pocket, smartwool socks, blue sweatshirt for warming up.

After breakfast (oatmeal, baked apple, 2 eggs) I went to Running Room for spectator books, Target for new earphones, and Trader Joe's for bananas and milk (two things I will need tomorrow morning). I got a call from a friend and so stopped by her home where she gave me celebratory flowers and I spastically described my race day plans. I might have qualified as hyper at that point. Came home and cut the flowers too short so now they look a little weird in my one and only vase (I need a tall vase). But they're bright and happy and remind me of supportive friends so a sloppy arrangement (wholly my fault) is easily ignored.

I've been downloading new songs for iPod, some suggestions from fellow runners, some just homey songs that will remind me of the people that helped me get here. Alabama and Creedence Clearwater Revival for my Dad. Guns n' Roses for Jason. Garth Brooks and bad euro dance music for Christina. U2 for Megan. 80s randomness and Rogue Wave for Juice. Decemberists and Dan Auerbach for Chris. Richard Marx (no joke) and Wynton Marsalis for Stephanie. It's an eclectic mix, to say nothing else. There's always a purpose to my music, and at mile 21 I know I'll need constant reminding of the people who high fived me the first time I ran 3 miles, much less 26.

I bought a tshirt yesterday at the expo. It says, "The miracle isn't that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start." I won't wear it until tomorrow afternoon but the quote is dead-on. If someone had told me 4 years ago, at my heaviest (230+ lbs), newly evacuated from New Orleans and feeling completely uninspired by my life, that in 4 years I'd weigh 80+ lbs less (roughly, I'm a girl, I'm not stating my EXACT weight), a half-marathon and 20-mile race under my belt and a marathon on the horizon...well. I don't think I would have had any choice but laugh at that idea. It still seems mildly ludicrous to me, so I can't imagine how I would have reacted back then.

I can't say that I was miserable back then, at that size. I knew I was unhealthy and that I could be healthier. But I have always adapted to my world and my circumstances very easily. I was (and am) a naturally happy person. But after evacuating I was overcome with a sense that such a disaster would be easier somehow if I had control over something, if I could at least depend on my own body to survive such a thing. I felt that I was making my life more difficult by the choices I was making and that seemed illogical. With better choices, healthier decisions, I could fight whatever disasters rolled my way with less heartache (perhaps) and I could, when things got really bad, always know that I'd done everything in my power to make sure I was physically capable of conquering whatever needed conquering. I simply felt weak. And that stopped being okay.

That was 4 years ago so the road was long. But I suppose the road usually is when it's something worthwhile. And 4 years ago I didn't set out to one day run a marathon. I just wanted to be stronger. Better. At that point I had no concept of what that looked like, I only knew I had a long way to go. So tomorrow's event was never my goal, it couldn't have been. I don't typically shoot for impossible things and that's exactly what a marathon would have been at that point.

Goals shift. At the marathon expo yesterday I was wandering around taste testing clif bars and juices, looking at newfangled socks and visors. I chatted with a couple other runners, some doing the 10 mile race, others doing the marathon. Someone came on the loudspeaker and made some announcement, "Runners, don't forget..." "Runners, make sure you stop by..." "Runners, welcome and please bring..."

Runners.

If I had had some faraway, wildly unattainable goal 4 years ago, if I'd admitted as much to myself, it would have been to be part of such a collective. To be a "runner" maybe. Or just a "healthy" person. Part of some easily defined group of persons pursuing a physical goal. It would have been a vague dream at that point 4 years ago. But if I'd had the courage to name it, that would have been it. I wanted to be an athlete, however that was defined for the body God gave me.

Today I ran errands. I figured out my running clothes. I mapped things, emailed my race number to people. Made plans and preparations to meet friends and family along the route. Because it may be hard to find me tomorrow, one of 11,000. I will be part of a collective. A big, sweaty, happy, healthy collective.

I will be one of the Runners.